Beyond: A Tribute
by Gold
Summary: Set in a time when the boys have grown up and some have turned pro. Sometimes, all you have to call on are those invisible ties, stretching back to a time long past, but never forgotten. Kizuna. Nakama.
1. Beyond A Tribute Prologue

**©** Original storyline 2004 AlseGold

**Disclaimer **When I'm not on PoT, I'm on crack. (jimmythesiger)

The lyrics are the English translation of several lines from _Don't Look Back_, sung by Aozu and by Echizen Ryoma. The translation was kindly lent for use by **ri-chan**, whom I am deeply indebted to. Thank goodness someone out there translates these songs!

**Notes** The backstory to this can be found in _Beyond: When We Were Fools_, of which the Oishi-Eiji part is up.

**Dedication **To my **little sister**. And to **ri-chan**.

**Title** Beyond: A Tribute

**Rating **PG

**Prologue **

_Don't let me down, don't look back  
Let's throw away all of our fragmented feelings..._

Goddamn it, they had all been stupid.

But what could one expect? They were barely fourteen then. Their first and only love was tennis, though for some, other things came a close second, such as watching people suffer, making people suffer, eating eleven hamburgers at one sitting, or brushing teeth with the latest brand of toothpaste. It'd be hard to find a tighter-knit group of friends anywhere else; hard to find a more closely-linked team in any other school. Fudomine came close, but you'd never find those goofy undercurrents that ran through Seigaku's Nationals-winning team. They were strangely normal and yet strangely abnormal. Where else would you find a team that would do anything _not_ to take those special dietary concoctions their team-mate had brewed, and which were beneficial to the team's stamina and healthy well-being? After all, it wasn't every team that could boast a genius health expert like that. Where else would you find a team that promised all-you-can-eat sushi buffets to winners, and wasabi sushi as punishment for those who lost?

Most people rarely realise when they have been stupid. Most people won't admit they have been stupid even though they know it. Most people aren't fortunate enough to know when they've been stupid. Most people miss all those neon signs that have been blaring in their faces. How can you completely misread something when it's laid out there, in naked glory, for you and all the world to see? How can you be so stupid? But then again, as Inui Sadaharu will tell you if you will listen, different situations will have different outcomes, so it is 95% certain that in a particular context, 99% of people will misinterpret clues, whereas in another situation, there is a 99% chance that the same clues will be correctly read and the right conclusion reached. In this particular case, the former set of statistics prevailed – although Inui will be quick to tell you that he was the 1% that read the situation accurately and took precise steps following his deductions. Besides, he was involved in an extremely delicate version of the said situation, which required a great deal more care than the others.

However, Inui will add, glasses glinting, they all fell, like chess pieces, when the right conclusions hit them. Some fell first, and others fell later, but the end result was always the same. They had been stupid, dense, half-witted, simple-minded... call it what you will, they had been dummies one and all. Inui will also comment, with a dry little smile, that really, Kikumaru Eiji and Oishi Syuichiroh were quite the stupidest of the lot, since they were the first to recognise what was going on, and should have taken steps—which they didn't. But they were all mere schoolboys then, in ages ranging from twelve to fourteen, and though well-built in body, their emotional maturity and ability to understand themselves outside of tennis were still underdeveloped. Who could blame them?

_... and talk about our dreams of a tomorrow that's greater than yesterday. _

There were always eight regular spots, but that particular year had rich pickings for Seigaku, as it had nine unusually gifted players fighting for those spots. Echizen Ryoma, a tiny, ill-mannered freshman in a little white cap, had upset the equation when he joined as Talent No. 9, Tezuka No. 2, but instead of splitting the team asunder, his loner nature was somehow tamed by the general easygoing spirit and friendliness (and Momoshiro Takeshi's after-training burger invitations) that characterised the Seigaku regulars. The main thing was, they were the legendary Seigaku team once, all nine of them, and even today, years later, people speak the name of Seigaku in hushed, awed tones. If you go to the Kanto Regional Tennis Tournaments every year, you will hear the same thing over and over again, because people never stop talking about it. There will be someone, always, who tells the story of the Seigaku-Hyoutei and Seigaku-Rikkaidai matches that took place years ago. Yes, today's Seigaku, Rikkaidai and Hyoutei are still powerhouses on the junior high tennis circuits, that someone will say, but ah! you should have been there in the 90s, when Seigaku was not only the best team, but the greatest, the very greatest.

People all over Japan know the name of Tezuka Kunimitsu. Whatever sport, whatever team, everyone knows that name. He is now amongst the crop of young Japanese tennis stars making their mark internationally, but a long time ago, a very long time ago, he was known for something far greater than that. The newspapers wrote of it then; the tennis magazines talked about it for months; by the time the other sports magazines were done with the story, it had been nearly a year since the legend was born. And year after year, when covering regional tournaments, tennis magazines have a special section that reminds its readers: remember the name of Tezuka Kunimitsu, of the schoolboy captain who calmly sacrificed his genius and future for the sake of his team-mates, and who played a fierce, unforgettable match against an equally brilliant opponent. A captain who had thought nothing of his own future, but fought on with a critically-injured arm, knowing that to retire from the match would be to forfeit it—and cripple the morale of his team-mates, and who stuck to his determination to play tennis _his way_, come what may.

That team brought home the Nationals title for Seishun Gakuen Junior High, and on its way, swept the district champion title, the prefectural title and the Kanto regional title, thrashing many better-favoured teams on its way to the top. Their names are forever enshrined in gold lettering on a plaque of appreciation the school presented to them, and which now sits in pride of place in the club room near the tennis courts. Year on year, everyone in Seigaku knows the names of that particular Seigaku team. In the halls of Seishun Gakuen Junior High, and on the tennis courts, they tell not only of the selfless courage of Seigaku's captain, but also of the tennis genius Fuji Syuusuke, second only to his captain, and who performed the strangest and most wonderful tennis movements seen at the tournament, collectively known as the Fuji Triple Counter during his Seigaku-Hyoutei match, and then slew Rikkaidai's Kirihara Akaya in seven games, even after being deliberately hit in his right shin several times by Kirihara's ball. And who could forget Kawamura Takashi, who refused to back down from a power battle of the fearsome _Hadoukyuu_, in a match that ended halfway as both Kawamura and his Hyoutei opponent bled from the excessive force they had to use for the stroke?

Then there is the crazy story of Momoshiro Takeshi and Kikimaru Eiji, the madcap doubles pairing who had never played together before, _never_, not even a single practice match as a doubles pair, but who during the course of a Kanto match displayed an astonishing rhythm so matching as to be able to perform the Australian Formation at first attempt, with unbelievable success. Their Kanto match was to be the first and last time they played together as a pair. Crazy, definitely. Lucky also, decidedly! And, of course, Inui Sadaharu and Kaidoh Kaoru, who first publicly showed the brilliance of Data Tennis in doubles, a strategy that worked only because of Inui's mathematical and scientific prowess, and Kaidoh's unshakeable trust in his doubles partner. Kaidoh Kaoru single-handedly defended the court against the opposing doubles pair for three straight games, during which Inui Sadaharu stood, observed, and processed the way their opponents played. It was a mad gamble, and only the Seigaku players from that year could have had the guts and the belief to have pulled it off. And Inui Sadaharu would later defeat Rikkadai's Yanagi Renji in a magnificent see-saw match that turned the tide for Seigaku in the Kanto regionals, proving in the process that Inui without Data Tennis was equally scintillating.

And all their movements would live on in Echizen Ryoma, once the tiny freshman from Seigaku who had made his mark first at Kanto, went on to defeat then top-ranking junior high player Sanada Genichirou during the Kantou finals, and today still holds the record for being the youngest ever chosen for the All-Japan Juniors.

_Don't let me down, don't look back  
We'll get there somehow. _

_We'll just follow this road that we believed in  
head on._

But that is the stuff of legends, of old wives' tales from yesteryear, and snatches of forgotten songs from a golden era long past.

Fuji Syuusuke's tennis genius is now lost to the world at large, for his career lies not as a player on the international tennis circuit, but as part of the management team that oversees all the younger Japanese tennis players on the international scene, and handles every aspect of their affairs, from coaching to public relations. He is not the only former Seigaku member on the management team; Inui Sadaharu carelessly tossed aside the offer of a lucrative research position at a renowned American university to join the management team, purportedly because he could not refuse such a request from his old friends, but some suspect that the lure of an available pool of hapless subjects to experiment freely upon anytime, anywhere, was possibly too much for the precise, scientific Inui to resist.

Kawamura Takashi has given up tennis pursuant to the promise he made his father all those years ago, and has successfully inherited his father's mantel, running Kawamura Sushi. Two years ago, he took a risk and put wasabi sushi on his menu, and found unlooked-for fame when a nationally-televised food programme on the lookout for unusual dishes all over Japan came knocking on their doors. Yet Kawamura, true to his shy, unassuming and retiring nature, has resisted all temptations, advice, threats and offers to start a Kawamura Sushi franchise or to sell his wasabi sushi recipes, for he has no dreams of global domination through sushi, preferring instead to retain his little sushi place as a friendly family establishment that always keeps its doors open for Seigaku tennis teams on celebratory occasions.

In his later years in high school, Momoshiro Takeshi discovered a hitherto latent gift for snappy, expressive writing during a forced assignment for the school paper, and his passion for life and his newfound talent has translated into his becoming a young, freelance sports journalist and accidental photographer, courtesy of a birthday present from Echizen Ryoma, who from all reports is bitterly rueing the day he bought his Momo-senpai the camera. Momoshiro is in great demand by sports magazines and newspapers around the world, for his domain lies in tennis, where he has gained fame for his exclusive and brilliant, if unorthodox interviews with his old team-mates and rivals who are now taking the international tennis world by storm. He is especially famous for that candid shot of Echizen Ryoma stuffing his face with burgers.

Kikumaru Eiji, on the other hand, doesn't play on the international circuit. For a time, Kikumaru and his old doubles partner, Oishi Syuichirou, coached Seigaku Junior High's tennis team, for Ryuzaki-sensei has finally retired, having discovered that she cannot shout as loudly as she used to. Now Yamato Yuudai is coaching Seigaku instead, and Kikumaru co-hosts a popular weekly entertainment talkshow which specialises in capturing hidden glimpses into the lives of Japanese sports stars, particularly those playing on the international tennis circuit, whilst Oishi is quietly working his way up in the orthopaedic department of a hospital. The old myth about the Golden Pair staying together until Kikumaru can beat Oishi, has long been exploded, because it doesn't matter any longer, whether Kikumaru can beat Oishi or not. The Golden Pair are now together in more ways than one—and perhaps they have always been so from the beginning.

Of the Seishun Gakuen team of old, only three of them have chosen tennis as their career, consigning their entire future to the odds of how well they can hit a little yellow ball. In the 90s, the tennis world was swept by the Russians; in the early twenty-first century, Tezuka Kunimitsu, Echizen Ryoma and Kaidoh Kaoru were part of the invasion of Japan when they were but teenagers, beginning by first leading the sweep of the international youth circuit tennis titles within a year of their debut, and riding on the crest of that brilliance to burst on to the men's circuit in the following year. Tezuka Kunimitsu and Kaidoh Kaoru each play their own brand of tennis, and the Tezuka Zone still traps Tezuka's opponents in every match, however wily they may be, whereas Kaidoh's Boomerang Snake tends to strike terror into the hearts of both his opponent and the umpire refereeing their match.

But it is in Echizen Ryoma that the rest of Seigaku still lives, for sometimes he employs the Fuji Triple Counters, and occasionally, when Momoshiro Takeshi is watching, Echizen executes a _Super Momoshiro Special Dunk Smash_, just to needle the other man. Echizen once won a match through doing nothing but acrobatic play, _a la_ Kikumaru; another time, he completely psyched his opponent out, murmuring percentages and all-too-accurate predictions under his breath, in a peerless copy of Inui Sadaharu's Data Tennis. And Echizen's opponents are known to skip hastily out of the way when he finishes a set off with a _Dash Hadoukyuu_, or to freeze when he lobs a ball so high that it spirals upwards, out of sight and unreachable, before falling to earth in a manner so precise that it lands squarely on the baseline of the singles court.

_Don't let me down, don't look back  
In this wide world,  
let's search for the place the brilliant light shines upon _

The hands of time are swifter than we know, and changes run by us quicker than the simple bubbling of a stream. Today you're a young schoolboy, late for school, and your favourite part of the day is when the school bell rings for the end of lessons, and you throw everything into your bag in a slap-dash fashion and race to the green courts that have been beckoning for you every minute of every lesson. But then the pale pink petals that are so easily crushed beneath your sports shoes give way to the darker green leaves of summer, and before you know it, your beloved green courts are dotted with dying leaves of gold, red and brown. And as you dart round the bend of the road in the impatience of youth, the trees around you are suddenly bare, denuded of their beauty, and soft white flakes begin to fall from above, melting at a single touch. You are a schoolboy no longer.

Success never comes easily, and the paths that lay before you in the past were many, and you did what you thought was _best_ for you, but it was not always the _right_ choice. "I'll do this," you said, but you buried your youth, even though you thought you would hold it forever, and you screwed up when you thought you had everything perfectly figured out. But you know, you cannot simply cast aside the strings fate has tied for you and go on your own merry way.

Everyone you meet has an effect on your destiny, or else you have affected theirs in some palpable way, from the postman who delivers your letters to the stranger in the blue flowered dress who had a stand-up fight with you over the last available autographed copy of a Kaidoh Kaoru photograph. And destiny has a way of picking up those threads when you least expect; your future sister-in-law could be the postman's ex-wife, and your new neighbour is the stranger in the blue flowered dress whose hair you tore out the last time you met. For those who had once been the boys from Seishun Gakuen, the strings were not merely tugged at. Rather, it was with almighty force that destiny reeled those threads in all at once, and the resultant crashing of heads and flailing limbs would have been beautiful to behold under other circumstances.

_Don't let me down, don't look back_

_Without standing still any more,   
we'll just follow this road that we believed in  
head on._

My name is Osakada Tomoka and I was there, right at the beginning of things, when Ryoma-sama came to Seishun Gakuen Junior High. He was in my class, and I knew he was special from the moment I saw him, not just because my best friend, Sakuno-chan, had the mother of all crushes on him, but because he was, well, Ryoma-sama. I'd never played tennis in my life then, but I can recognise a genius when I see one, and I knew it was a sign that we'd win the National title that year. A team with Tezuka-buchou, Oishi-senpai, Kikumaru-senpai, Fuji-senpai, Kawamura-senpai, Momo-chan-senpai, Kaidoh-senpai and Ryoma-sama—we couldn't lose, even when Tezuka-buchou had to leave to get his shoulder properly treated. The other teams thought we had been weakened, but they underestimated us. A team is not built on the shoulders of one person alone, and Seigaku always bore its burdens on fourteen shoulders and one Pillar, except that we had _two_ Pillars that year. We had the greatest team ever—but also the stupidest. Stupid boys grow up into stupid men, you know? I'm pretty sure Inui-senpai will have some statistics on that, and I can tell you he was the 12.5% part of the team who wasn't quite so dumb.

—Well, to be fair, they are no longer quite so stupid as they once were, but it has taken years of silence, years of careful waltzing around the truth, years of denial, years of waiting and waiting and waiting—and a brief, short period of a few months, when destiny hauled in those strings, and everything blazed into terrifying life, as time, fate and all forces seemed dead set against them.

It's only a matter of time before the truth gets out, and gets distorted by those totally disgusting, perverted, scum-of-the-earth entertainment magazines and tabloids, but until then—and until Fuji-senpai sues the clothes off their back—someone's going to have to record what _really_ happened and why—and as the President of the International Seishun Gakuen Tennis Fanclub, it is my duty and indeed my honour to do so.


	2. Beyond A Tribute Part 1: Snatches of Us

©2004 Gold Original Storyline

Disclaimer: PoT not mine. This story is _fiction_.

Comments: If you follow tennis, you'd recognise how I've tweaked some of these names.

* * *

_Beyond: A Tribute_

Part 1: Snatches of Us

* * *

**Unnamed Search Engine Online News, ****Monday, 26th July 2010******

**14 minutes ago**

**_Tennis World No. 5 Kunimitsu Tezuka Faces Drugs Probe_******

The tennis world has been rocked by revelations that world No. 5 Kunimitsu Tezuka is under investigation for the use of banned substances. The Association of Men's Tennis Professionals (AMTP) has just released a surprise statement to the press, confirming that Kunimitsu Tezuka had tested positive for the banned blood-boosting substance jetoxil (JTX), and is part of an ongoing probe. The world No. 5 has been suspended pending the investigation, which has not been completed. The Japanese has dominated tennis since his debut on the men's international tennis circuit three years ago, setting a new world record by reaching the world No. 5 position just last Friday, leaping over one hundred places in the rankings in just three years.

The suspension is for two weeks, by the end of which investigations are expected to be complete. Tezuka will be unable to continue competing in the ongoing Cincinnati Global Tennis Masters tournament, where he has reached the quarter-finals. The world no. 5 was unavailable for comment and calls to his management were not returned.

AMTP spokesman Leon d'Amatier, when asked for further details of the investigation, refused to reveal more information, but made it clear that this was part of the AMTP's anti-doping campaign. "The AMTP takes an extremely serious view of such matters. We will strictly follow the new anti-doping measures that were passed in January this year. What we can assure the players, fans and the rest of the public is that every possible care will be taken to ensure justice in the process."

* * *

**Yomiuri Shimbun, ****Monday, 26th July 2010****, Quick Shorts Section**

**_University Student Still Missing _**

Momoshiro Takeshi, 20, a student from Tokyo's Seishun Gakuen University, was reported missing several days ago in Biei, Hokkaido. He was part of a group of students from the Seigaku University Tennis Club, which was participating in a tennis clinic for primary schoolchildren on the island. He was last seen leaving the home of the host family he was staying with three days ago. Seigaku University teachers with travelling with the tennis club made a police report when they remained unable to locate the student's whereabouts after twenty-four hours had passed.

Local police and residents of Biei and the surrounding towns are continuing a search for the missing boy, which began only yesterday. Earlier speculation that the student had run away was dismissed by both the Seigaku teachers as well as local police. Although the search continues, and the police and residents have declared their intention to continue the search until the boy is found, there are growing fears that the missing student may have met with foul play. Chief Matsumoto Akira of the Biei police stressed that they had very few clues to go on, but held out hope that the student may yet be found.

The Seigaku tennis club returned to Tokyo yesterday, but it is understood that a teacher has remained behind in Biei to assist local authorities.

* * *

****

**Location: ****Tokyo****, Tuesday morning, ****27 July 2010, ****03:00 hours; ****Telephone call log: New York-Tokyo long distance **

"I take it that this is about Tezuka?"

Silence. Fifteen-love.

"You seem _very_ concerned about him."

Beat.

"Yes."

Thirty-love.

"Hmph. He was always one of the only people who could make you lower yourself like this."

Silence.

Forty-love. It looked as if he was going to take this game completely.

"Well, it's going to cost you."

"Name your price."

"Prepared, are we? – One favour, to be called in anytime, anywhere—and to be done without question."

"Done."

Forty-fifteen. Damn.

"Well, that was fast—"

"Do I have your word?"

"Don't interrupt me—"

"I haven't the time. Do I have your word?"

"This is important to you, eh?"

"I don't beg twice."

"Of course."

Pause.

"You have my word on it."

Forty-thirty. Double damnation.

"Thank you."

"If it happened to be anyone else but Tezuka—"

_Beep, beep, beep..._

Forty-all. Deuce.

"Cutting me off? How juvenile." Eyes narrow. "You really shouldn't annoy the people whose favours you ask, Fuji Syusuuke. This game isn't over yet."

* * *

**Unnamed Search Engine Online News, ****Tuesday, 27th July 2010******

**1 minute ago**

**_Ryoma_****_ Echizen in Shock Straight-Set Loss at Tennis Masters _**

Japan's Ryoma Echizen crashed out of the Cincinnati Global Tennis Masters in a stunning fourth-round defeat to world no. 20 Jan Emmelmann of Holland. The teenage world no. 14 had his serve broken by Emmelmann in the first set, and went on to lose 4-6, 5-7 in his worst outing since the Australian Open semi-finals in January, where he lost to then world No. 6 Tezuka Kunimitsu 1-6, 1-6. Echizen was clearly not in his best form, making several strings of unforced errors and double-faulting twelve times in the second set. Emmelmann took full advantage of that to race to a 4-0 lead. Echizen then clawed his way back to take the next five games despite losing his serve, but subsequently lost the set 5-7.

Speculation was rife that the young world no. 14 has been devastated by the news that his close friend and mentor, world no. 6 Kunimitsu Tezuka, has been suspended for two weeks following his positive test for a banned substance. However, Echizen did not attend the post-match conference and his manager and mother, Rinko Echizen, offered only the explanation that her son had been feeling unwell just before the match, which might account for his poor form.

Emmelmann now faces eighth seed Jean-Bertrand Latois of France in the semi-finals. Latois was given a bye after world no. 6 Tezuka, who beat him in their fourth-round encounter on Saturday, was suspended.

* * *

**Chubu Weekly, ****Tuesday, 27th July 2010****, Quick Shorts Section**

**_Tezuka's_****_ Supporters Rally _******

The Seishun Gakuen Tennis (International) Fanclub and Tezuka Kunimitsu Supporters Club launched an online campaign early yesterday evening in support of the beleaguered world No. 6, just hours after the news about his suspension following investigations into possible substance abuse broke. A joint online petition was set up and can be found at www.wesupportezukakunimitsuforever.web/petition. According to Hoshimura Miyuki, the President of the Tezuka Kunimitsu Supporters Club (TKSC), a public campaign will begin over the next few days to drum up support for Tezuka, and to urge the AMTP to fully investigate what the TKSC believes to be flawed procedures in drug-testing tests carried out by the AMTP. The Kaidoh Kaoru Supporters Club and the Echizen Ryoma Fanclub have already pledged the support of their organisations. Fanclubs of the other international Japanese players such as Ibu Shinji, Yukimura Seiichi, Sanada Genichirou and Kirihara Akaya, are also expected to lend their support.

* * *

**Asahi Shimbun, ****Tuesday, 27th July 2010****, Quick Eye on Sports Section - Tennis**

**_Yukimura_****_ and Sanada to Meet in Tennis Masters Quarter-Finals_**

World no. 8 Yukimura Seiichi made it through to the quarter-finals of the Cincinnati Global Tennis Masters, beating twelfth-seeded Carlos Miguel Martinez of Mexico in straight sets, 6-0, 6-0 in less than forty minutes in their match on Monday afternoon, just as compatriot and world no. 14 Echizen Ryoma was suffering a shock defeat less than three courts away. Yukimura faces fellow countryman and world No. 10 Sanada Genichirou in an all-Japan quarter-final clash, which will take place tonight, Tokyo time. Sanada defeated ninth-seeded Chilean Ricardo Vergara, 6-3, 7-6, 6-4 in their fourth-round match on Sunday. It will be the fourth meeting between Yukimura and Sanada in three years. Yukimura holds a 3-0 advantage in their meetings.

* * *

**Yomiuri Shimbun, ****Wednesday, 28 July 2010****, Front Page Headlines**

**_Show of Solidarity from Japanese Players at Tezuka_****_ Kunimitsu Press Conference_**

Tennis world No. 6 Tezuka Kunimitsu held a press conference on Tuesday morning in Cincinnati, USA, in response to the recent confirmation by the Association of World Men's Tennis Professionals (AMTP) that he is the subject of a drugs probe. The charismatic world No. 6 looked calm and confident as he declared his innocence in front of over a hundred and fifty reporters and camera crew from around the world.

"I did not, nor have I ever taken banned substances of any kind, to the best of my knowledge," he said in fluent English. "I do not believe the AMTP will find me guilty. I have every confidence in my trainers and my management team. We will co-operate fully with the AMTP."

In answer to questions posed by reporters, he stated that his management had already hired a legal team to look into his situation, but stressed that it was to protect his rights rather than an indication of his probable guilt, or any attempt to stall the AMTP investigation. "The AMTP is merely doing its job," Tezuka said. "Any attempt to prevent it from carrying out its duties would be wrong."

Although the world no. 2 made a clear show of refusing to appear on the opposite side of the AMTP, his repeated denials made it obvious that he would fight any decision that would result in a ban on him.

"I did not take any banned substances. I believe in sportsmanship, and a true sportsman does not cheat, lie or falsely gain advantage over competitors by using performance-enhancing stimulants."

The world no. 6 publicly thanked his fans for their support and asked them to remain calm. Asked if his fellow countrymen on the circuit had given their support, he would only say that it was a private matter, and referred the questions back to the players' respective managements. It was clear, however, that he had the support of all the Japanese players on he international circuit. In an astonishing display of solidarity and confidence in the world No. 6, all the Japanese players on the tour flanked Tezuka at the press conference.

Tezuka stands to lose much if the AMTP panel finds him guilty. Apart from a long ban, his contract of endorsement with sports apparel manufacturing giant Yonex, may be in jeopardy. Apart from that, as a role model and idol to millions of tennis fans across the globe, Tezuka will also have to answer to them.

* * *

**Somewhere in ****Cincinnati****, on Tuesday evening, ****28 July 2010, ****Cincinnati**** time ****19:00**

Tezuka Kunimitsu had long learned that one had to go through life equipped with either an agile ducking ability, or else you learned to field, bat, catch and run fast enough to deal with those curve balls. You needed a dash of luck, of course. But you didn't go looking for it, and you didn't go expecting it to pop up when you were struck by a crazy curve ball. You worked hard at batting and fielding and the lot, because you could count on one hand all the times lady luck had decided to drop in on you. But sometimes... sometimes, perhaps because you've built up _that_ much good karma in your last life, or maybe you really do have a guardian angel, or maybe some heavenly spirit was paying attention to you— lady luck _does_ look in on you, bestow a couple of sparkles, and—

"Tezuka, Tezuka. I see you've been busy in my absence."

Tezuka Kunimitsu paused in the doorway, eyeing the apparition lounging gracefully on the sofa in the room, ensconced comfortably among several plump, velvet-covered, heavily embroidered cushions. He also noted many other new additions to the room: three maidservants in neat black uniforms and frilly white caps and aprons standing to one side, six dark-suited men in dark glasses standing at various points around the room, one tall, elderly-looking manservant in the garb of an English butler—and an ubiquitous tall, hulking form of one Kabaji Munehiro.

Tezuka's gaze shifted back to the man on the sofa.

"Atobe."

Atobe Keigo always possessed a room the moment he stepped into it—or he did his best to, in any case. It made no difference whose room it happened to be, and Tezuka Kunimitsu's temporary abode was just the latest in a long list.

"Tezuka." Atobe made no move to get up from the sofa.

"How did you get in?" Privacy was one of the clauses in the very brief sub-lease of the apartment Tezuka and the others had rented for the duration of the Cincinnati tournament. A breach led to forfeiture of the entire amount of rent without concession of the legal right to damages, which was quite considerable package to lose in all.

Atobe's smile did not change. It was cool, a little contemplative, definitely smug, and completely at ease. "All doors open for the Atobe name."

"This door was specifically barred to anyone regardless of name."

Atobe's smile widened. "As I'm here, it would appear that you're wrong. Ne, Kabaji?"

"Usu."

The silence that fell then was not particularly uncomfortable. Atobe and Tezuka simply looked at each other, neither moving a muscle. It was Atobe who unbent first, and this he managed to do without appearing to have backed down from the staring competition. He folded his hands, the smile slowly vanishing off his handsome, arrogant face, and suddenly, Tezuka was no longer facing the imperious new ruler of the Atobe business empire, but a stern-faced young man— the _real_ Atobe Keigo that lurked behind the overweening ego, flamboyant gestures and fancy purple ruffled shirts.

"Tezuka."

Tezuka could have sworn that Atobe was looking at him with _concern_.

"I've come to take you home."

* * *


	3. Beyond A Tribute Part 2: The Art of Conv...

© 2004 Gold Original Storyline

Disclaimer: When I'm not on PoT, I'm on crack. (Credited to my sister)

Notes: This has taken a long time to get out, because I don't want to ruin the story. It got a lot more complex than I realised it would be, and I just needed to get the parts right. I've re-written and re-arranged the parts so many times just because I felt it could be done better. Hence the delay. I hope this part makes up for it in some small way.

Warning: Indiscriminate use of the term "Ore-sama" and "Tenisu no Oujisama". Also no knowledge of whether champagne can be drunk at any time of the day, on an empty stomach.

Summary: Tezuka and Atobe. Talk.

* * *

Beyond: A Tribute

Part 2: The Art of Conversation

The casual bystander would have thought that Atobe Keigo had absolutely no reason whatsoever to drag Tezuka Kunimitsu by the hair, kicking and screaming if need be, back to Japan. Ore-sama himself could be immutable and unyielding as Mount Everest when necessary, but he liked to think that he was, when occasion called for it, flexible, magnanimous and many other excellent things, particularly when there was really no need to be so _stubborn_. The obvious difficulty was Tezuka's misplaced sense of a few things—honour, dignity and all that. Tezuka had the soul of someone living perhaps two thousand years ago—and he clearly regarded accepting Atobe's offer as something that didn't match with said ancient senses of honour, dignity, etc. Atobe quite appreciated loyalty, honour and the ancient samurai code or whatever it was that was part of Tezuka's curiously inflexible approach regarding his personal affairs, but it could be a vastly outdated and silly concept when applied to specific situations—such as this one, for example. Tezuka had stuck to his stand for the last _hour_ in near-perfect silence, which was enough to begin putting ideas into Atobe's perfectly poised head... some of those ideas entertaining a fair amount of dragging and Tezuka's hair. Atobe needed to bring Tezuka back to Japan for many reasons, the least of which was the thought that he, Atobe Keigo, would have to tell Fuji Syuusuke: "Ore-sama couldn't get him to return." – _Couldn't_ was a word that was anathema maranatha in Atobe Keigo's vocabulary.

There was, of course, another reason altogether. Atobe never did things for pure charity; he had Plans For Tezuka Kunimitsu... and he wasn't about to let them go to waste.

Now, Tezuka Kunimitsu was one of those rare beings whom Atobe Keigo condescended to respect and like, although you would need to do more than drag Atobe kicking and screaming by _his _hair before you could get him to admit it. They understood each other in a curious sort of fashion— each, after all, was a perfectionist in his own way, and like called to like. Atobe had no doubt whatsoever of his personal blessings in the way of fortune, beauty, brains, tennis genius, character, charm, charisma, leadership, etc. —you name it, he had it. It followed logically, therefore, that for him to be anything less than the best was a concept utterly alien and deeply insulting to someone as flawless as himself. Tezuka, on the other hand, strove to be the best he could, thanks to his formidable personal principles that made it positively sacrilegious for him to do anything other than fully explore, exercise and harness whatever potential he had in everything he chose to do, pushing himself further beyond every limit that just happened to pop up. To sum it up, the strongest point Atobe and Tezuka had in common—apart from being fond of fishing and tennis and various shades of purple—was that the word "limit" was simply not in their vocabulary. That they had somewhat different approaches did not matter much to either. They respected each other, not because they could each hit little yellow balls beyond the reach of most people, but because their mutual respect was rooted in the recognition of someone who knew what it meant to be the best. They were old friends and old rivals, and each acknowledged the other's right to stand beside them as an equal.

But that aside—

"I will not run away."

Atobe, wise in the ways of Tezuka, immediately recognised it as _the_ mantra that Tezuka had been chanting _ad nauseum_ for the last hour or so. He sniffed. "I'm sure you can do a lot by sitting here, surrounded by a bunch of incompetent fools who dare to call themselves your management." The trick was never to answer Tezuka by way of a rhetorical question, because you never knew if he would answer. If he remained silent, you always looked stupid, and you invariably found yourself wondering whether you had actually _meant_ him to answer. If he did answer, you _still_ looked silly, because the force of your _rhetorical_ question was then completely diluted.

Tezuka, predictably, was unmoved by Atobe's sneer— _stubborn and mulish_, Atobe thought, with considerable annoyance and maybe just that little bit of admiration. It was a very Tezuka thing to do, and under other circumstances, Atobe might have allowed himself a faint smile of amusement. As it was, however—

"Atobe, I appreciate your offer." There was a ring of finality in Tezuka's voice. _I do, truly, appreciate it, and understand. But I will not accept it._

Atobe privately reflected, with a mixture of rising irritation and resignation borne of long-standing friendship, that Tezuka had a good deal in common with a literature text—you always had to read and interpret between the lines, and you either got it right or you didn't. There were no two ways about it. Atobe, in his personal judgment, was reasonably well-schooled in this sort of hit-and-run interpretation after nearly a decade of interaction with Seigaku and several fly-fishing trips with Tezuka. He decided that Tezuka was really repeating his _I will not run away_ mantra. It was also Tezuka's very polite way of dismissing him. A lesser mortal might have chosen to cut his losses, and make like a tree and leave, but not Atobe Keigo. No, he was made of sterner stuff and steelier mettle, the man who would in future stand atop one of Japan's most highly regarded international brokerage houses, dealing with hundreds of billions of American dollars worth of securities and futures—and who wanted Tezuka Kunimitsu as a linchpin in a budding scheme of his own.

That in mind, Atobe gave Tezuka his most charming smile.

"Tezuka, you should sack your management."

If he was surprised by the sudden turn in the conversation, Tezuka did not show it. A keen glance was all he spared Atobe. It was more likely than not that he knew Atobe of old—the latter never lightly changed the subject of conversation, unless it was another way of getting what he wanted. Sure enough, Atobe, never one to miss an opportunity, held Tezuka's gaze, and proceeded to give his unvarnished opinion with a flourish of his champagne flute for emphasis.

"Incompetent, naïve, overly cautious, inexperienced— and they don't have the infrastructure or influence to compete with the Global Management Group."

This was a reference to the giant sports management agency GMG, which had what was effectively a monopoly over the management of the top sportspeople in practically every lucrative sport in the world, from golf to tennis to athletics. Any company which intended to sign a famous sports star as a spokesperson for its products had to go through GMG. The days of Echizen Nanjiroh, the outsider from Japan who had thrived wild, free and agent-less on the courts across the world, were over. To his credit, Tezuka Kunimitsu had remained one of the rare few outside their reach; like the other rising Japanese tennis players of his generation, he had chosen to remain with the Japanese agency that had been recommended by their local National Tennis Association.

"The National Tennis Association promotes, encourages and organises tennis events. It is by no means their fault that the agency they recommend is not an expert in the management of _international_ sports stars no matter how hard they try," Atobe informed Tezuka. "Your biggest mistake will be to stay with them in the wake of _this_, which is going to lose you more than just a couple of torn-up Yonex contracts." Atobe flicked his fingers in a clear gesture of derision. "Your press conference was held with no one but the others at your side and your legal counsel is just as inexperienced as your management. Let me remind you, Tezuka—_our_ press are mostly polite and remarkably nationalistic. The Western reporters, on the other hand, are like wolves baying for blood, and they're not treating you with kid gloves. In fact, if I may say so, they're lobbing missiles at you from every direction." Atobe's mouth was puckered into a sour grimace. "Have you seen the phalanx of photographers outside? My security team took four hours to find a way in here without them noticing. Your landlady was very nice about it, by the way."

"I noticed," Tezuka said dryly. _She did let you into _my_ room, after all._

Atobe gave a casual, elegant shrug of his shoulders. "Well, it can't be helped that my personal charm so overwhelmed her."

Tezuka's lips twitched.

"But to return to the point, Tezuka, your management does not quite appreciate the intricacies that are required in handling a proper publicity campaign in the Western world. Have you even read the American reports on your press conference? _You_ tell me, Tezuka—am I right?"

Tezuka maintained silence. _Get to the point._

Atobe, looking at that too-calm, too-silent face, felt a sudden anger spark through him, and he had to fight hard to stop himself from hurling his champagne flute, contents and all, into that face of carved marble. His lips curled, the closest he had come to showing disdain for Tezuka over their long acquaintance. "I don't think you _truly_ understand how bad this situation is. Or do I really have to tell you that you may never be able to return to the pro circuits? Genius is one-third of success on the circuits, Tezuka, and hard work is another third, but it is _management_ that makes up the rest of it." Atobe's face was grim. "Tezuka, we're not in Tokyo anymore. _Grow_ _up_!"

Perhaps it was the fact that they had never spoken to each other like that, or else it was the almost contemptuous intimation that Tezuka was some Dorothy of Kansas, lost in Oz. Whatever it was, for the first time during the visit, the world no. 6 showed a glint of emotion. His eyes were cold behind those glasses, although his voice remained unchanged. "You speak as if I am guilty." _I thought you knew me._

"Would I even be here if I believed that?" retorted Atobe heatedly. "The Tezuka I knew in Tokyo would have chosen _seppuku_ before he even _touched_ performance boosters." Atobe's expression mingled near-contempt, fury, and something else that the watching Tezuka could not quite define. "I speak as though you are guilty? You think I would do that?" Atobe's voice rose. "May I remind you that you _have_ _been_ _found_ _guilty_—the running slogan in the anti-doping circles is to shoot first and ask questions later! They haven't forgotten the last scandal and the criticism of the press! This is a chance they won't miss to put on a show that they're serious about wiping out doping! What does it matter if you're innocent?"

Tezuka's eyes flashed and he raised his voice a little to match Atobe's escalating volumes. "You understand that is _exactly_ the reason why I cannot go. I will not give others the excuse to pounce upon this as a sign of my guilt when—"

"I understand that you can do nothing by sitting here! What can you achieve staying here where nobody can help you! You know you cannot do this alone! Tezuka Kunimitsu, you have chances and opportunities to achieve dreams that I will _never _havefortherestofmylife, chances that I would give up _everything_ for if I could! To stay here—why not say you are giving up!"

Three years.

He had been promised three years on the professional circuits by his family upon his high school graduation from Hyotei. Although he, like the other present Japanese professional tennis players, had played sporadically in a few tournaments on the world junior tennis circuits during his high school years, he had needed to play for a full calendar year on the junior and satellite circuits in order to gain enough entry points to get into the professional world of men's tennis. It had taken the legendary Steffi Graf only three years to rise over one hundred world rankings to world number 6, and on that basis alone, the Atobe family had reluctantly gave their permission. If Atobe Keigo had any tennis genius worth speaking of, three years would certainly be adequate for him to break into the world's top rankings. And perhaps, after that, they could talk more about it. That at least had been Atobe's hope.

So it was that in the beginning, there had been Atobe Keigo, Yukimura Seiichi, Sanada Genichirou and Tezuka Kunimitsu, four of Japan's greatest tennis hopes—if not her very greatest since Echizen Nanjiroh—and these were the four who became part of the hailed "Princes of Tennis", a remarkably lame label some newspaper hack had coined (rumour had it that the hack was some sports ingénue from the West, but there was good authority that it was actually one Inoue Mamoru of a Japanese sports magazine who had been responsible for "Tenisu no Oujisama"). The label stuck and they became feted as the harbingers of a New Age of Tennis on the men's circuit. But hardly a year into his debut on the men's tennis circuit, Atobe Keigo's dream ended abruptly and he returned to Japan to take up responsibilities due to the scion of the family who was one of the largest shareholders of Japan's best-known brokerage firms. It was a job he could delegate to no one else, for he was his father's only child, and his father was dead. His father's share of the company was being held in trust for him by his mother, until Atobe turned twenty-one; likewise, she remained as his proxy at shareholder and board meetings until he came of age. So when he was almost twenty and poised on the brink of tennis greatness, Atobe Keigo became a first-year freshman at the University of Tokyo in Japan, exchanging the green and red tennis courts he loved for the dog-eat-dog playing courts of the financial world.

If Tezuka noticed the bitterness that had rung through Atobe's voice, he did not show it.

Atobe calmed down a little, although his voice stayed unusually sharp: "My offer is more than a flight out. I can arrange for a public departure, in which you will announce a recall back to confer in Japan with a new legal team and your new management. It will be nothing out of the ordinary; even the average idiot can tell that you will do no good by staying here, or even rushing to the AMTP headquarters."

Something in Atobe's voice made Tezuka glance up. "New management?"

"I will be setting my own management group." Atobe's eyes met Tezuka's without smiling. "And I want you to be the first client."

"What about the brokerage firm?"

"That's for the future," Atobe answered. "Eventually I will retain a financial interest and part ownership in this management agency, and there will be a board of which I will be chairman. This..." He paused briefly. "This is something I _want_ to do."

Tezuka's eyes softened a little in comprehension. Atobe missed tennis dreadfully... and perhaps in Tezuka and all the others, he saw a way of helping them achieve the dreams and ambition he had had to give up. In short, Atobe had found a new way to be part of tennis again.

_This is something I want to do... and you know me, Tezuka. You know we need this. _Atobe leaned back in his chair. "Tezuka."

"..."

"We had big dreams once, didn't we?" Atobe tilted his head thoughtfully, and rotated his wrist a little, so that the clear golden liquid in his glass swirled gently. Through it, he could see Tezuka... albeit a somewhat twisted view of Tezuka, shaded in gold and wobbly all over, like the reflection found in curved mirrors at a fun fair. "We knew that we could do anything, because we _could_, andthe world was our playground. There was nothing that could stand in our way, because we had time on our hands. We were young, and we had the will to try where others before us had failed, and the ability to succeed—we had so much before us, waiting for us to take it into our hands." Atobe fell silent, staring into his glass and absently swirling the liquid round and round.

Tezuka cleared his throat. "Some of us have those dreams still."

"Yes. And some of us..." Atobe stopped speaking and glanced up. "Tezuka, have you heard about Yukimura?"

"Aa."

Atobe set down his glass. "He had a recent attack, didn't he? I spoke to Yanagi before I left Japan. It won't be long now, before Yukimura has to retire."

Tezuka was calm. "I think he understands that it is something that can never fully heal." _I believe he has prepared for that eventuality._

Atobe's laughter was a brief, sharp burst of bitterness. "But like you, he will go on—until the disease cripples him in the middle of a match."

Tezuka's left shoulder jerked slightly. "Sometimes, our dreams are bigger than we are." _But they never stopped us from trying, Atobe. _

"No." Atobe put down his glass. "Wrong, Tezuka. Our dreams—_are_ what we are." _This is why we never stopped trying, Tezuka. _"We shared a common dream, Tezuka. You, me, Echizen, Yukimura, Sanada, Kirihara, Kaidoh, Ibu... We came here, Tezuka—"

"—to change the world, shape our future and_ be_ the future.," finished Tezuka levelly. _And where, may I ask, is all this going?_

_You may ask, but I shall not answer yet. Patience, Tezuka. _"Personal glory," Atobe mused, "was always a part of it... just never the be-all and the end-all..."

"..." _Stating the obvious, are we? Get to the point._

Atobe's smile grew decidedly feral. "Tachibana Kippei has agreed that he will be part of this. And in a few days, after his match with Sanada, I will speak to Yukimura." Atobe smirked. "I have already extracted Oshitari Yuushi's promise to come on board... And Fuji Syuusuke will be joining us." _Once I call in that favour, that is. Ii data_, Atobe thought, much amused as Tezuka's eyes flashed surprise. "So, what do you say? You've never had to fight a dirty fight before, Tezuka. Well, _this_ is only the beginning. I can promise you that you won't be disappointed. After all, who better to handle this than people who will know what we want and how to get it? Who else can we trust, hmm?" Atobe pressed the tips of his fingers lightly together, already visualising the Save Tezuka campaign, brilliantly orchestrated, financed and credited to the Atobe Management Group (AMG). "Who else, Tezuka, except our own people? Who else will believe us—or help us?"

"Atobe."

"_What_!" snapped Atobe pettishly. _I'm throwing you a lifeline—take it, damn it! I swear, if I hear you say anything that means "I won't run away" one more time, I'm throwing this glass of wine in your face—_

"You're hired."

_I – won't – run – away._


	4. Beyond A Tribute Interlude

© 2005 Gold Original Storyline

Disclaimer: When I'm not on PoT, I'm on crack. (Credited to my sister) Prince of Tennis/Tennis no Oujisama was created by Konomi Takeshi.

My grateful thanks to all who have read this, to those who took the time to comment, and to those who dropped a line to remind me that they were waiting for the next part.

May this be a happier, betteryear for all of us.

* * *

****

**_Interlude: Rikkaidai no Hashira_**

"I won't do this anymore!"

The harsh floodlights came on suddenly, one by one in quick succession, and the hard green courts became a spectacular centre for these makeshift spotlights, throwing the shadows into sharp relief and casting everything else just outside the fencing into an inky blackness, almost a semblance of a separation of worlds, and at the centre, frozen in the middle of the pool of blinding white light, were the stars of the night.

One was a youth, barely a man, with an untidy head of very dark, wavy hair and a tangled fringe of hair that threw his eyes into shadow under the bright, white lights. He stood very still, his head bent low enough for his chin to nearly meet his collarbone, and the lines of his figure were taut with a strange tension. A tiny, neon yellow ball dropped from the sky and rolled into the shadows at his feet.

The very pale, tall young man across the net from the untidy youth stood very still. He was just a little older than the first youth, with an ethereal, almost elusive beauty about him. There was a delicacy about the shape of his face, particularly the chin, and his features were fine and sharp-boned, lit by a mouth that seemed to be eternally set in a guileless smile, and tempered with cool blue eyes that were darkly, thickly lashed, and that tipped up at the corners, just short of being tilted upwards like a cat's. Like his untidy compatriot, he had a tennis racket in one hand and his entire body was poised ready to return a ball—indeed, had remained poised as such, even in the face of the sudden outburst from his opponent.

Something in the shadows moved, abruptly, and then stilled.

Across the net, the untidy-looking youth bent to pick up the tiny yellow ball, and as he straightened, his fingers dug into the tiny neon yellow ball to hide the trembling he felt in every nerve fibre and the yellow plush on the ball sank deep under his fingertips. "I'm not doing this anymore, _buchou_. I can't and I don't want to—and you shouldn't either." The tone of his voice was surprisingly chill, if deeply respectful, but underneath the messy tangle of hair, his dark eyes were sharp with fear and something else. "You have to stop this now."

The one addressed as _buchou_ watched his untidy opponent, his eternal smile never dimming, although the steel in the cool blue eyes grew flintier with each second that passed.

"Akaya."

The third voice was hard and unyielding, and it came from deep in the shadows, which seemed to be shedding their inky blackness to reveal the third star of the night.

The young man who emerged was a good half head taller than the other two, who were approximately of the same height bar a centimetre or two, and he was broad-shouldered, with a strong, athletic frame and powerful wrists bound with black wristbands that seemed a little larger and thicker than normal. He wore a completely black cap that seemed to blend in perfectly with his short, black hair, and the peak of the cap was unusually long, throwing most of the upper half of his face into shadow so that one could just barely make out the lower part of the very straight nose and the stern set of the mouth that joined together with a very firm jaw to make a handsome, if iron-grim profile.

It was clear that he was addressing the untidy youth, even though his gaze clung to the pale young man.

The untidy youth thus addressed as Akaya let the ball he was holding drop to the ground. A breeze stirred, and the leaves on the trees and bushes nearby rustled in response. The boy lifted his head and his eyes were twice as brilliant as the bright glare of the floodlights, and the flint in them was icier than anything that cool blue eyes could ever conjure.

"So you can see it too." The one called Akaya gave a short, sharp, bark of laughter, plainly directed at the black-capped newcomer. "He's sick, isn't he? It's the same thing he had—the Guinea Pig Syndrome—and he's still going to play you in the quarter-finals." Dark green eyes gleamed through the tangled fringe of hair, and there was a sudden hint of scarlet in the irises.

The scarlet was mirrored in the sudden, dark flush that burned the cheeks of the hitherto iron-grim young man with the black cap.

But it was the pale-faced young man, instead, who responded with a light, thin laugh, without amusement. "It is not called the Guinea Pig Syndrome, Akaya, although in terms of treatment, you may bemore accurate than you imagine. But—" here he made a sharp movement that spoke of mixed disdain and impatience—"stop this foolishness. I don't wish to waste any more time here. I have only two hours to practice—"

"Foolishness?" cried the boy named Akaya, and he seemed suddenly consumed with a fit of silent laughter, his shoulders shaking.

The young man in the black cap lifted his chin sharply, eyes narrowed and watchful. He shot a quick, alarmed glance at his pale compatriot, but the other simply watched the third member of their little trio with pure disinterest.

The laughing boy stopped as abruptly as he had begun, breaking off in a sort of choked gasp. "I'm not young and stupid anymore." He breathed heavily and coarsely ran an arm across his forehead, pushing back the damp curls. "You could have fooled me all those years ago, but don't forget—" he pointed his racket at the pale-faced young man he had addressed as _buchou_—"I'm not thirteen years old anymore. I _know._"

"Akaya, leave alone the matters you do not understand." The voice of the young man with the black cap was very low and deep, rumbling from somewhere deep within his chest, and it had all the warning connotations of iron and blood.

The scarlet in those dark green irises flashed again, then dimmed. "You're wrong there, Sa-na-da-_fu-ku-bu-chou_. You're the one who doesn't understand the matters here—or maybe you're too afraid to face it." There was a curious, twisted look about his mouth as he spoke. "I understand, Sanada-_fukubuchou_, that you're _this _close to killing... _him_."

The dark flush faded from the face of the youth called Sanada and the tan on his face whitened, as if the bright, white floodlights had touched his face and bleached the skin in an instant.

"Akaya, stay out of this." The voice slashed through the silence, hard and sharp, keener than the edge of a finely honed blade and twice as riddled with danger. "This is _my_ decision, Akaya." _No one else's, so butt out._

"That's where you're wrong, Yu-ki-mu-ra-_bu-chou_," drawled the other, half-mockingly, swinging his racket in a steady rhythm back and forth, his manner curiously sinister. His head was bent, chin lowered, and it was difficult to decipher his eyes through the tangle of hair covering them. "Don't forget, _bu-chou_—there's someone else across the net. If it's just you playing, I grant you, _buchou_, you've every right in the world to tell me that it's your decision. But—" Akaya's voice rose, shrill and shaken—"now you're just _using_ Sanada-_fukubuchou—_and you _know_ it—and—"

The ball was fast and furious, and it smashed straight into his racket and tore it out of his hand, the backlash slamming his arm to the side wildly and sending him stumbling backwards.

The pale-faced young man's blue eyes were cooler than fjords and the racket in his hand was poised perfectly for the return serve—if there had been one. "Play, Akaya, or get out. This is your last chance. I won't miss again."

The youth called Akaya snarled at the pale youth, regaining his balance with difficulty. "No, this is _your_ last chance!" His face was flushed and he clutched his injured elbow tightly. "You _know_ it! I won't see this happen again, I swear I _won't_! You were like that too, that time, and we all thought you were okay, and you told us that the doctors said you were okay, and Yanagi-_sempai_ told me you had gone to six doctors and they _all_ couldn't find anything wrong and said you were just tired out from the 'flu and we thought it was just the 'flu that made you _different_ when you played tennis—but it _wasn't_, it wasn't! And now it's happening all over again! I _won't_ forget what it was like—I'm not a fool, _buchou_, stop lying to me!"

"Akaya!" The grim young man called Sanada gripped his racket tightly, almost threateningly.

A tanned hand shoved back the tangled fringe of hair to reveal fierce, dark green eyes. "Why! I'm telling the truth, aren't I? _Buchou_'s not fit to play tomorrow—"

The tall, grim young man gritted his teeth. "Yukimura is fine," he bit out harshly. Stop your nonsense. The doctors have certified that he is perfectly fit to go through the match tomorrow—"

"And you _believed_ them! _You_, of all people—you know _buchou _hasn't been well for weeks and it's not 'flu because he hasn't got 'flu this time—how can you forget what it was like that time and we thought—we thought he was going to _die_!"

A tremor ran through the tall, broad-shouldered frame of the dark young man in the black cap and he seemed to hesitate a little. "I..."

"You know Yanagi-_sempai_ would tell you the same thing if you were here—Sanada-_fukubuchou_, can't you see...?"

The boy with head of messy curls broke off suddenly and doubled up abruptly, clutching his stomach. His knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground, a sharp hiss of agony spilling from his lips. A tiny, neon yellow tennis ball rolled a little way from his feet.

The tall young man with the black cap was very still.

Behind him, the pale-faced young man rested blazing, cool blue eyes on the prostrate youth on the court. "Enough." He ran slender fingers along the strings of his tennis racket. "Come, Genichirou. It's already almost eight and I have only managed to get in two balls today. We have an hour left. Let's put it to good use."

Still the young man with the black cap did not move.

The pale-faced young man turned to look at him curiously. "Genichirou?"

The young man called Genichirou bent his head a little lower. "Yukimura..."

"Hmm?"

"Are you... feeling all right?"

Cool blue eyes flashed. "I'm in very good health. Our doctors say so and I'd rather not argue with them if I don't hold a medical qualification. Genichirou—" He moved three steps forward and one step to the left.

The young man called Genichirou blinked, taken aback.

Yukimura's cool white hand had reached up and cradled itself against the iron-grim jawline.

"Play your best against me tomorrow, Genichirou, or I will never forgive you."

Face hidden in his arms, his body curled and crumpled, Kirihara Akaya's eyes were open and blank, and tears leaked from them, trickling down his dirty cheeks and landing on the hard green court beneath him. Overhead, the sounds of the tennis balls passing over him, dangerously close, continued for another hour.

* * *

_Sempai_... 

"... Akaya?"

Yanagi Renji woke with a start.

He was in his bed.

A dream, he realised—he had thought he had heard an old team-mate calling his name in a sobbing whisper, but that team-mate was thousands of miles away, across a couple of oceans or so.

Yanagi squinted sleepily at the alarm clock, raising one arm to block out the harsh sunlight as it poured in through the open window.

_Ten-oh-five a.m._

Yanagi turned over and burrowed deeply under the blankets.

Too early. He wrinkled his brow as a noisy flock of crows flew by his window, cawing loudly and importantly.

_Only a dream..._

Outside, on the shoe rack beside the front door, the shoelaces on Yanagi Renji's best tennis shoes snapped.

* * *


	5. Beyond A Tribute Part 3

© 2006 Gold

**Title**: Beyond: A Tribute

**Part 3**: An Epoch in Yanagi Renji's Life

**Author: **Gold

**Pairing Warning: The Golden Pair and Platinum Pair are mentioned in passing. Three characters also categorically dismiss the possibility of some pairings. You are, of course, most welcome to disagree with whatever views have been put forth. To each his or her own. :)**

**Disclaimer: **_Prince of Tennis _is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-san or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of _Prince of Tennis _. It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-san or aforesaid entities.

**Warning:** Umm. Fangirl Japanese?

**Notes: **

There's this part where Yanagi Renji thinks about whether "waterworks are in order". This means that he's wondering whether he should cry...

**HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!**

* * *

Part 3: An Epoch in Yanagi Renji's Life

_Special note of appreciation and thanks from editor Osakada Tomoka: I am honoured and grateful to Inui Sadaharu and Yanagi Renji for extending to us their kind permission to allow parts of their private records to be used in the writing of part of this chapter in order to tell a more complete story. _

_Special note to readers from Inui Sadaharu and Yanagi Renji: Last Christmas, Osakada-san came to see us and explained that she wished to put together a book that would tell the truth behind the events that rocked the tennis world in Japan_ _and the world last July and August. We were naturally pleased and honoured to be able to assist. The extracts you will see have not been amended or edited in any way. Happy reading. _

It was high noon on Thursday in Tokyo and the café was dreadfully crowded. There were groups of junior high school boys playing truant, the wayward ones who haunted the lesser-known parts of Harajuku, poorly-lit billiard salons and pachinko parlours with their over-oiled, badly-dyed hair-dos and gesticulations of false bravado. They sat and talked loudly, and cast furtive glances at the senior high school girls, the wild ones with tight blouses and bursting buttons, and skirts hiked up well above their knees, their lips glossed in nude shades and their eyes edged with fake lashes thickened with real black mascara. Sometimes there were high school boys with them, the bad boys with shirts unbuttoned and heavy chains of stainless steel collared around their necks, emphasising the sharpness of their collarbones, their long legs straddling the chairs, or stretched out nonchalantly to trip the next person. Then there were the tables occupied by clusters of young women in identical office outfits, gossiping softly over their sandwiches and coffee, and the lonely male office workers in dark, ill-fitting suits and plain ties, each occupying a single table, dark heads bent over their cheap lunches and hot mugs of green tea or coffee steaming into their faces as they ate their slender meals.

Yanagi Renji stepped into the café, and promptly treaded heavily on the extended foot of a lanky high school boy lounging lazily with an arm looped around the shoulders of a high school girl with an irritating giggle. The boy gave a shout of mixed pain and rage as Yanagi's heavy foot connected, and lunged for Yanagi's collar—

There was a thud as the boy hit the floor and the girls nearby gave little screams.

It was a strange face from the past which had, from all appearances, popped out of the woodwork about five seconds ago and roughly shoved the high school boy to the ground. Gone was the wild hair dyed white, but there was no mistaking the unnaturally pale skin, cold amber eyes and the thin blade of a mouth that seemed perpetually set in a malevolent twist. Akutsu Jin gave Yanagi a brief, expressionless glance, and then ignored him completely, turning instead to sweep cold eyes over the table of young troublemakers, who had suddenly gone quiet. The entire café seemed to have frozen into silence and the high school boy who had tried to trip up Yanagi immediately began to scramble hastily away, the seat of his trousers polishing the floor of the café as he went. That was a useless move, as far as the boy was concerned, because it took all of five seconds for Akutsu Jin to pick up the boy by the scruff of his neck and then throw him out bodily. Yanagi thought he might have heard the cracking of bones as the boy hit the pavement outside.

On any other day, in any other world, Yanagi Renji might have considered calling an ambulance, as was the duty of a good citizen of Japan. And Yanagi Renji, after all, was a really good citizen of Japan. But—

"Yo."

Under the dim lights, beyond the shadows of the strangers in the café, were familiar faces and figures emerging from the corridors of the past.

There were crisp, grass-green jackets with yellow piping and the words _Yamabuki_ lettered across the back; hardy-looking navy-blue jackets, with stripes of deep pink and white, with _Fudomine_ on the left breast; classic jackets of white and puppy-brown with the crest of _St_. _Rudolph's_ _Gakuen_; cobalt blue jackets slashed with narrow red and white piping at collar, cuffs and jacket edges, with the words _Seigaku_ _Tennis_ _Club_ writ all over; plain red-brown and black jackets with _Rokkaku_ dancing across the cloth; designer jackets (professional dry-clean only) of dazzling white, with fashionable bands of grey and black, and _Hyotei_ _Gakuen_ embossed in shimmering threads of black velvet and silver satin; and, of course, mustard-yellow jackets with narrow bands of black and white, stitched with the proud flash of red that was the school crest of Rikkaidai.

The pages of history were flipping backwards faster than Yanagi could track them, and all at once the mountain that had been crushing his shoulders for the last eight hours or so somehow appeared rather lighter than he had originally perceived it to be—perhaps because he now knew that there were other willing shoulders around to help support it. The colour of mustard had never been so warm and comforting before.

"Yanagi, it's good to see you again." Jackal Kuwahara was, as always, the steadiest of the lot, and that shaven pate of his was like a sight of home.

"Yo, Yanagi. Hiroshi says to tell you he's on his way back and will reach Tokyo tonight." Niou Masaharu's hair was dyed a brilliant electric blue that clashed so badly with the mustard-yellow of Rikkaidai that Yanagi's eyes hurt to look at him. He was also dripping leaves, mud and the occasional twig, and looked as if he had just walked out from a nearby forest. He certainly smelt like it.

"I came fast as I could." Marui Bunta peered over his oversized sunglasses and anxiously blew a gummy bubble large enough to hide his face. "Actually I wanted to come earlier, but I overslept…" He shrugged briefly. "I don't know what's going on, but let's do something about this."

_Let's do something about this._

There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd of jackets.

"Fudomine's here to help."

"_Hai_, Tachibana-_san_."

"We must stand together in this time of need."

"_Hai_, Tachibana-_san_."

"Huh, Hyoutei got there first. Atobe's already there!"

"Shut up, Gakuto."

"Shut up yourself, Shishido!"

"Gakuto, Shishido. There's no need to argue over this—"

"Yuushi, why do you always take his side?! Is this because Shishido's brother is dating your sister?!"

"Gakuto, that's not it—"

"Yamabuki at your service. Akutsu's with us, although he's pretending to be cool by standing far away from us—and next to the dustbin. —_Aaaaah, _Akutsu, I'm joking, I'm joking!"

"Rokkaku's glad to help if we can. Just let us know what we can do."

"Why are we here? Why are we just standing here? Why are we not eating? Why are we—"

"Later, Itsuki."

"... why later?"

"Of course, SeiRuu is always ready to help. I assure you, Yanagi-san, that we are ready, able and willing—"

"Hush, Mizuki-_sempai_."

"Mizuki-san always talks too much, _da_ _ne_."

Fudomine was looking at Tachibana Kippei with glowing eyes, Hyoutei was arguing snottily amongst itself, SeiRuu was trying and failing to ignore their resident flamboyant ex-manager, Yamabuki's bad boy was throttling his one-time vice-captain, Rokkaku was cheerfully watching the developing fracas, and Rikkaidai was mostly being indifferent (Jackal, Marui) or else egging everybody else on (Niou). There was something so distinctly sentimental about this scene that Yanagi considered detachedly for a moment if waterworks were, perhaps, in order.

"Renji."

Inui Sadaharu's voice was clear, low and preternaturally calm, as usual. He looked remarkably energised, despite the tell-tale smudges that looked very much like badly-applied kohl beneath those sharp green eyes.

"Sadaharu." Yanagi stepped aside so that they could talk privately and out of earshot. "This... you arranged all this?"

Inui Sadaharu nodded quietly. "_Aa_. With some help from Oshitari-kun. Apparently Atobe-san called him at six this morning and gave some very specific instructions."

"Atobe's bringing back Seiichi, then," said Yanagi flatly. He could read between the lines. He hated to be abrupt with Sadaharu, but he was in no mood to be truly relaxed. "What is Atobe planning? Did he have something to do with the school jackets as well?" Some of those high school jackets looked mighty dusty and faded, and they were really too tight. After all, they had been made for teenagers that had now grown into broad-shouldered young men.

Sadaharu laid a calming hand over Yanagi's arm. "It's all right, Renji. I believe the ex-captains had something to do with the jackets. To be honest, we called in only the ex-captains and vice-captains, but one thing led to another and... well, here we are. Everyone wanted to come." Sadaharu's face dimmed slightly. "Oishi sends his sincere apologies; he is away in Biei. I haven't been able to locate him since Tuesday, but his sister told me this morning that she had received a message from him yesterday. He went to Hokkaido on Tuesday to see if he could assist with the search for Momoshiro. I finally got hold of him about an hour ago."

Yanagi nodded his head briefly. "I see. Any news about Momoshiro?"

"Oishi will update me as we go along." Sadaharu glanced around. "To get back to the present, Seigaku is somewhat under-represented today. Kawamura is away at one of his tests today, the one he needs in order to advance to the next level of becoming a professional sushi-chef, but he has promised to join us later tonight, wherever we might be. Kikumaru is on his way by _Shinkansen_."

"He was in Biei as well?"

Sadaharu pushed his glasses up. "Well, no. Kikumaru is simply late, I think. It appears he and his girlfriend were with the Keio _anime_ club on a trip to an _anime_ convention in Osaka."

"This is the girlfriend who famously proposed to him last weekend?" Yanagi knew that it was a private matter, but he couldn't help asking, even though he should have been worrying about getting Seiichi and Genichirou back to Tokyo so that he could boil them both alive in that big vat of oil that he had lying around somewhere.

Sadaharu coughed lightly. "Yes, that's the one."

Everybody liked Kikumaru Eiji's girlfriend and even Oishi sang her praises dutifully, despite the fact that Sadaharu had compiled _a lot_ of data that seemed to show that the Golden Pair had a relationship that exhibited too many aspects that went _way_ beyond best friendship...

"Is it just doubles pairs, or the water in Tokyo?" mused Yanagi aloud.

"Hyoutei and Seigaku have been particularly susceptible," murmured Sadaharu. "On the other hand, Fudomine, SeiRuu and Yamabuki seem quite untouched."

"Well," said a new voice, "it just means that their doubles pairs aren't quite as pretty as ours." Fuji Syuusuke smiled up winningly at Yanagi.

This one had a tongue like Seiichi's, Yanagi reminded himself. Forked on occasion, if you looked closely enough. It didn't help, of course, that Fuji Syuusuke was absolutely correct. If you had a pretty enough doubles pair, you got gay. Rikkaidai had just one pair like that... and the true nature of their relationship hadn't been settled yet. (Of their other doubles pair, Jackal was handsome, but so straight that you could cut yourself on his edges, and Marui, though pretty, was asexual to anything that was animate and had less than a cupful of sugar in it). This discussion could go on forever, Yanagi thought. It was a fascinating subject in itself—

"We could compile our data on it," suggested Sadaharu, glasses glinting in happy anticipation.

"_Should_," corrected Yanagi automatically, thinking hard. It would be an extremely enlightening study, and they might perhaps even discover something momentous—

Someone clapped him hard on the shoulder.

"Renji." Jackal's brow was furrowed. "You can do your… research… after this. Right now, I think we need to know what's going on. Can we do anything about this? What is Seiichi's condition? What happened yesterday? Can you tell us anything?"

The mountain resettled on Yanagi's shoulders.

Yesterday. Yes, yesterday.

* * *

July 28th, 2010, was a date that Yanagi Renji would remember for the rest of his life. 

It had begun dramatically enough, with a strange nightmare in which he thought that he heard a familiar voice (Akaya?) call his name in desperate tones. But the owner of the voice was thousands of miles away; so a nightmare it remained, divorced from the reality of daylight, and Yanagi Renji turned over in his bed and went back to sleep peacefully.

At about half-past eleven that morning, Yanagi Renji deigned to wake from his slumbers, largely because he was utterly famished. It was a completely natural reaction. There was nobody in the house; his mother was out and his sister was nowhere to be found. Consequently, he could not find the coffee beans that he usually used to make coffee back at the hostel, and had to make do with an ordinary mug of instant coffee that looked and tasted like coloured water.

The news in morning papers proved to be somewhat dry and dusty. Yanagi stifled a yawn. Possibly it was because he was reading the news at a quarter to noon when he could have spent it more productively in the university library, beefing up the joint research paper he was writing with Yagyuu Hiroshi and Oshitari Yuushi. But Yagyuu was away in Europe on holiday, Oshitari was off somewhere (entertaining a lady friend, Yanagi suspected), and today was Yanagi's off-day, so he deserved a little rest.

According to the Yomiuri Shimbun and a host of other papers (which had all generously given the matter front-page coverage), Tezuka Kunimitsu had held a press conference to declare his innocence and promise full cooperation. Yanagi noted without surprise that the Japanese newspapers had reported it quite strongly in Tezuka's favour, whereas the Western journalists were a different matter altogether. There had been too long a lapse of time between the moment the AMTP released the news and Tezuka's public statements to the press. It was all too easy, Yanagi thought, to read between the lines of the Western newspapers; Reuters and AFP were running editorials about past drug abuse and dope scandals involving famous athletes, and every newspaper hack just stopped short of coming right out to say that Tezuka was guilty, which said quite a bit for the "shoot first, ask questions later" approach that the public kept demanding in drug or performance booster inquiries of any kind. The delay in public statements from Tezuka's camp had been pounced on by certain journalists and a lot was being made out of it. It had been a serious strategic error on the side of Tezuka's inexperienced management and, indeed, on the part of the National Tennis Association of Japan, for they were supposed to provide strategic advice on such matters.

There was nothing else of further note in the papers, really—there was still no news about the disappearance of Seigaku's Momoshiro Takeshi. Apart from that, the only item that made Yanagi pause for a moment was the short article on the second page of the sports section of the Yomiuri Shimbun, informing readers that Yukimura Seiichi and Sanada Genichirou were scheduled to play at 4 a.m. the next morning.

* * *

_Extracts from the private blog of Yanagi Renji, dated 28 July 2010_

**Date**: Wednesday, 28th July 2010

**User: **quoteratdemonstratum (yanagirenji)

**Logged** **in** **at**: 12:03 p.m.

**Location**: Kanagawa, Kanto, Tokyo, Japan

**Music**: Okiayu Ryoutaro — Road

**Mood**: In need of good black coffee

I hope Seiichi is well enough to follow this tournament to the end. He looked unusually pale and washed-out in his match against Martinez on Monday, which is very unlike him. There has been some mention in the newspapers for weeks on end that he has been suffering from a bout of 'flu. A simple 'flu would not affect Seiichi so much. To the best of my memory, the last time something like this happened, Seiichi ended up in hospital diagnosed with Guillain-Barre Syndrome. I do not think it is a relapse this time; the doctors had assured us the last time that he was completely cured. Still, I keep re-living the nightmare of junior high, when Seiichi had those operations. We came so close to losing him then; the operations performed by the doctors were revolutionary in those days, and all I can really remember is that the percentage of success was low—although success meant that recovery would be complete, with no relapse and practically no need for rehabilitation.

On hindsight, I do not know if I would have said what I did then, supporting Seiichi's decision to go for the operations. I am not surprised that Genichirou struck me in the face at that time for that suggestion. We all knew then that it was the only way left. Seiichi has pure genius, matched by few in his generation or, indeed, this century. I knew he would think as I did, that he would snatch at the slightest chance of full recovery rather than face the reality of never being able to lift a racket again.

I do not wish to go through that again.

(Note to self: call Akaya later this afternoon and get him to watch Seiichi and Genichirou. Akaya has a fine eye for observation—and is rather endearingly naïve otherwise.)

* * *

**Date**: Wednesday, 28th July 2010

**User: **quoteratdemonstratum (yanagirenji)

**Logged** **in** **at**: 1:13 p.m.

**Location**: Kanagawa, Kanto, Tokyo, Japan

**Music**: Suwabe Junichi — Spirit Way

**Mood**: Hungry

It is time for lunch and I am now on the bus to Harajuku. If it were any other pair of tennis shoes, it might be possible to purchase shoelaces in any sports shop, but regrettably, I happened to put on this particular pair. I should never have allowed Akaya to pick out these shoes for me, because he tends to pick out these... unique designs. The only place to get the shoelaces in the correct colour and pattern is in Harajuku and I'm fast running out of shoelaces. This is the third pair to snap today; I only hope the fourth will hold up until I get there. _Most_ extraordinary. On the average, one pair has snapped every twenty-four minutes. I believe this is a brand new record—not that there was one before it.

I have spotted three flocks of very large crows since half-past eleven this morning. There are also several black cats around. Three have already crossed my path. All were black as soot, completely ebony all over, and scowled at me as they passed.

I am really not very fond of cats, which is a strong point of difference between myself and Sadaharu. I have pointed out to Sadaharu several times that his calm acceptance of the more annoying habits of felines are wholly due to the fact that he has, for the last eight years, been in very close quarters with Seigaku's Kikumaru Eiji. Kikumaru-san is a most agreeable person. Though human, he has somehow managed to incorporate the more likeable habits of cats without adding the more irritating aspects of feline behaviour (such as scratching, clawing and shedding). He is, I think, somewhat adorable as a human, and Sadaharu's data shows that 100 of the people who come in contact with him agree as such.

However, I digress. I note with interest that I have also been forced by road blockages, closures and other unforeseen circumstances to walk under three ladders today.

Some people would say that I have accumulated sufficient ill fortune to last me several lifetimes.

At least I have not yet broken a mirror.

(Note to self: try to call Akaya later. He is not answering his mobile phone. Perhaps I should call Seiichi and Genichirou too, just to see if I can get anything out of those two).

* * *

**Date**: Wednesday, 28th July 2010

**User: **quoteratdemonstratum (yanagirenji)

**Logged** **in** **at**: 3:53 p.m.

**Location**: Kanagawa, Kanto, Tokyo, Japan

**Music**: Kusunoki Taiten — Fly To Tomorrow

**Mood**: Contemplative – and verbose

I have five pairs of snapped shoelaces so far. I have seen five flocks of crows since this morning, have been forced to walk under five ladders and have had five black cats mince across my path.

I would like to know if Someone Up There is trying to warn me that Something is about to Happen (as Akaya would say).

I made an attempt to reach Atobe Keigo in the hopes that he may be able to persuade Seiichi to submit to a thorough medical inspection. I have no doubts of the quality and competence of the doctors attending to Seiichi (on second thought, they are a team sent by the National Tennis Association, so I ought to be wary in light of the way they have handled Tezuka's troubles), but a second opinion would not hurt. Atobe Keigo has connections to some of the best doctors, and he and Seiichi have an unusually excellent relationship that stems from their long years of rivalry.

Unfortunately, I was informed by Atobe's private secretary's secretary's secretary in a suitably courteous and apologetic manner that Atobe was engaged and unable to attend to my call, and how did I get that private number? I do not remember exactly how I obtained that number, but it was in the database that Sadaharu and I have compiled and updated over the years. We constructed it in the final months of our last year of junior high, putting together vital information on the teams that had become the friends, allies and rivals of Seigaku and Rikkaidai.

It _is_ strange that I would call Atobe. Our teams were rivals, but not friends. We were not enemies, but neither were we allies. Our chosen battleground was the tennis court, where we could all speak a language we understood, and where we could fight on equal terms. Perhaps the memory of the past is what made me feel that I had the right to dial one of Atobe's numbers today to ask him to check up on Seiichi. Atobe is not someone I could call a friend, but he _is_ one of the few people who would understand when I tell him about Seiichi, and he has the necessary resources to do whatever it takes.

(Note to self: Something does not feel right here. Akaya, Seiichi and Genichirou are all not picking up their calls. Reason tells me that I ought not to be panicked, but I am panicking just the same).

* * *

**Date**: Wednesday, 28th July 2010

**User: **quoteratdemonstratum (yanagirenji)

**Logged** **in** **at**: 5:24 p.m.

**Location**: Library, Faculty of Medicine, University of Tokyo, Japan

**Music**: X Japan — Endless Rain

**Mood**: Doomed

Six pairs of shoelaces, snapped.

Six flocks of big, black crows.

Six ladders.

Six black cats.

They found Momoshiro's backpack, but there is no sign of him.

Akaya has not returned any of my calls.

Seiichi is not answering his mobile phone.

I cannot reach Genichirou.

This is not a good day.

* * *

**Date**: Wednesday, 28th July 2010

**User: **quoteratdemonstratum (yanagirenji)

**Logged** **in** **at**: 11:24 p.m.

**Location**: Seishun Train Station, Tokyo, Japan

**Music**: Hadyn – The Silent Symphony

**Mood**: -

I'm going to bike over to Sadaharu's house now to watch the match.

* * *

_Extracts from Inui Sadaharu's blog dated Thursday, 29 July 2010_

**Date**: Thursday, 29th July 2010

**User: **carpejugular (inuisadaharu)

**Logged** **in** **at**: 05:24 a.m.

**Location**: Tokyo, Japan

**Music**: Disutansu 

**Mood**: Philosophical

Renji finally dropped off to sleep about ten minutes ago, right in the middle of a sentence. It seems the medicinal wine and strange raisins that were recommended by my mother's friend do help people to go to sleep almost immediately after consumption. I wonder if it has any side effects, though—I should have checked that before allowing _okaa-san_ to trick Renji into swallowing them.

It has been a longer day than I thought it would be.

I suppose we might have guessed something from the fact that Renji was unable to contact Kirihara, Yukimura and Sanada at all.

I suppose we could have realised something was wrong when the match didn't start in time.

There are a lot of suppositions we could have made, but I doubt that we could have stopped Yukimura from fainting on court even before he could lift his racket.

The trick is to stop Renji from believing that he could have done something about it. He has been babbling on about black cats, crows, walking under ladders, snapped shoelaces... something about bad luck and something about a nightmare in which he heard Kirihara Akaya call for his help. He also threatened to boil Sanada and Yukimura in a vat of oil that he swears he has lying around somewhere. That was right before he slammed down the 'phone on Kirihara Akaya. If I wasn't Inui Sadaharu and he wasn't Yanagi Renji, I might think his sanity suspect.

In a way, I can imagine just how he feels. Sometimes I wonder if maybe, had I run after Renji that day, our friendship might have been saved. It _has_ been saved—but we've lost four years of time in between. For years, I haven't been able to find it in myself to forgive him, even though I keep telling him things are all right between us. It's not the same anymore, because we've both changed too much, and it's wrong to keep comparing our current friendship to the one we had when we were children, but there it is. I still keep thinking—maybe I could have done something about it. It's taken me ten years to let him back into the house. Today would have been the first time we spent a night together in my house since ten years ago, watching a tennis match with just the two of us, the way we used to do when we were children.

It's inexplicable guilt, wishing we could turn back time and make a different decision to assuage the way we feel now. Fuji wishes he had been with Tezuka when this whole thing broke. He thinks he could have stopped it somehow, made things all right—but Fuji being there wouldn't have made a difference anyway. Kaoru told me that Echizen's somehow blaming himself for Momoshiro's disappearance—something about not having contacted Momoshiro for a long time, and not answering Momoshiro's emails and telephone calls. Echizen somehow thinks he could have prevented Momoshiro's disappearance. We all think we could have done something, maybe even gone with him to Biei...

We all want to take responsibility for things bigger than we are, to save the people we love and to have the things we really want. It's part of human nature.

I hope Renji understands that it is not his fault.

* * *

**Date**: Thursday, 29th July 2010

**User: **carpejugular (inuisadaharu)

**Logged** **in** **at**: 07:24 a.m.

**Location**: Tokyo, Japan

**Music**: -

**Mood**: Tired

I just had a very strange conversation with Oshitari Yuushi, previously of the Hyoutei schools, current coursemate of Renji's at Todai (they're even writing a research paper together) and, most significantly, part of Atobe Keigo's elite inner circle.

It seems that Atobe's flying back with Tezuka and they're due back tonight. Now _that_ is extremely astonishing. How did Atobe get Tezuka on his private jet? Kidnap him? Trick him by promising that they were going to meet representatives of the AMTP to help Tezuka prove his innocence? Knowing Tezuka, there is a 92.76 chance that he would choose to stay on in Cincinnati or wherever the AMTP goes next in order to prove his innocence. Tezuka does not believe in running away.

That is not the only miracle Atobe is promising. He is also apparently making arrangements to have the finest medical care afforded for Yukimura Seiichi and to fly Yukimura back as soon as is humanly possible. Renji would be pleased and, I hope, calmer once he hears of this.

Atobe has also asked Oshitari—and Oshitari has thus enlisted my humble self for assistance—to contact the ex-captains and ex-vice-captains from certain schools, all from the Kantou region. Oshitari says Atobe has something up his sleeve, something Oshitari doesn't have the necessary security clearance to reveal yet—although obviously Oshitari has security clearance from Atobe that enables him to know about it!

I pointed out to Oshitari that one cannot simply call up people after a space of some two to three years (we haven't seen one another since the Kantou and National championships three years ago) and expect them to turn up. Oshitari's reply was that it was obvious that it had something to do with Tezuka Kunimitsu _and_ tennis, and that Atobe was doing something about it. Somehow I don't think Tezuka is going to like being babysat by Atobe in this manner.

Oshitari had one last message, which was extremely cryptic.

_Something is rotten in the state of Denmark_.

I have looked it up. Hamlet, Act I, sc. iv. I confess I cannot make head or tail of it (because I didn't study _Hamlet_, although I have heard that it is an excellent English play by the indubitable Mr. Shakespeare).

I think I hear '_kaa-san_ coming up the stairs, which means that she's ready to drive Renji back to his home, and I should be getting ready to go with her.

* * *


	6. Beyond A Tribute Part 4

© 2008 Gold

**Title**: Beyond: A Tribute

Part 4: The Brotherhood of Man

**Author: **Gold  
**Rating:** K

**Disclaimer: **_Prince of Tennis _is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-san or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of _Prince of Tennis _. It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-san or aforesaid entities.

**Notes:** This chapter is centred around one of the nicest and most overlooked characters in all of Prince of Tennis—Kawamura Takashi, all-round good guy and _sushi_ chef.

* * *

Kawamura Takashi padded up the stairs quietly, bare feet making soft thumps against the good, solid wood of each step beneath him. There was something curiously comforting about feeling the cool, smooth slats of wood on the callused soles of his feet. Kawamura slid open the doors to his bedroom as noiselessly as he could and stepped in, carefully shutting the doors behind him.

Then he leaned against the doors and drew a long, deep breath.

It had been three years since he had left tennis and high school behind him to devote himself solely to the pursuit of sushi-making. He had started out like everyone else, exchanging addresses and telephone numbers and what-have-you, promising to keep in touch. But distance and time and schedules packed like tinned sardines leave no time for old friends, no matter how close those old friends are. One year, you forget a birthday; another year, yours is forgotten. Someone changes dorms and telephone number and e-mail address; another changes campus altogether. Too busy to talk, too busy to answer, too busy to even remember what it was you promised... or if you had actually promised anything.

_We'll keep in touch! _

But he had seen very little of them since, except now and then, quick glimpses of hello and goodbye from those who still came back to the town of Seishun now and then, and short snippets of how-do-you-do, and nice-seeing-you-again, and what-did-you-say-you-were-doing-at-university? Sometimes Fujiko called, but those moments were fleeting and few between. As for Oishi, Eiji and Inui… somehow they, too, faded into the woodwork, as Keio University and the big lights in Tokyo-city did a brilliant job of swallowing them up. Kawamura passed a hand over his eyes. He couldn't remember when he had last talked to them, couldn't remember what they had talked about, couldn't remember when he had last seen them… Some mornings he woke up in a cold sweat from nightmares where he was talking to them again, but he _couldn't see their faces_. Kawamura did hear with clockwork regularity from Tezuka, who sent good wishes precisely twice a year, always in time for Kawamura's birthday and the New Year. Tezuka, though, was the exception.

Kawamura was well aware that he was not the only one feeling left out of the loop. Momoshiro, who had stayed on at Seishun Gakuen University, was the only one who even made an effort to drop by regularly, even if it was only to mooch free sushi off him. Kawamura had once tentatively asked Momo how the others were doing, but the younger boy had only shrugged his shoulders a little sadly.

"They're all working really hard," Momo had said, looking almost wistful. "I guess they don't have any time to themselves... and Echizen's always sleeping when I'm awake on this side of the world, hmph. I can't keep calling him anyway... it's not like I've got that much time... or that much money to spare." Momo's grin had been a little less cheery than usual. "I haven't even heard from Eiji-_sempai_... Taka-san... you know, I never thought … I guess it's just 'cause we're all grown up now. I just never thought it'd be this way." And he had pushed away his tray of half-eaten sushi, claiming that he had eaten enough.

For Momo to say that—Momo, who had always been the cheerful, back-slapping, optimistic one, with an appetite that was rarely sated by anything less than the entire food supplies of a small army—well, Kawamura knew exactly how Momo felt. Three years ago, he could never have believed that they would so easily drift apart, or that he could have contributed to that distance between them. But these days, except for the big photograph in its pride of place on the wall, the medals somewhere in a corner of his room and the untouched racquet bag on top of his closet, Kawamura Takashi might as well have forgotten that he had once played tennis for one of the finest schoolboy teams in all of Japan.

Kawamura's eyes shifted to the photograph. He hadn't had the heart to ptake it down, because it had been there for so long now. Besides, sometimes, when a day had been too long and too hard, he liked to look at it just before going to bed. The photograph had been taken on their trip to a well-known _onsen_ just after winning Nationals. In it, Momoshiro Takeshi's huge grin was at once both cheeky and infectious, while Tezuka Kunimitsu's eyes were particularly soft, his lips curved into the rarest, faintest of smiles. There was nothing there to hint that just three years later, they would be...

_Missing_, the papers had said, just two days ago.

_Drugs_, they said, _suspension_.

_Feared dead_, the papers said abruptly, only yesterday.

_Investigation_, they also said. _Guilty_, they might as well have added.

_Chance of foul_ _play definite_, they said on the local radio this morning.

Kawamura abruptly turned away from the photograph. It used to be that he could grip a tennis racquet, and he became someone other than the same old Kawamura Takashi, son of a _sushi_ shop owner. He was Kawamura "Burning Heart" Takashi, Seigaku team stalwart, and wielder of the famed Burning Serve, feared up, down and all round the Kanto region. No matter how insurmountable the odds were in tennis, so long as one persevered, everything would come round in the end.

But tennis couldn't help Momoshiro now, and somehow, some way, tennis had betrayed Tezuka Kunimitsu horribly.

Kawamura rubbed a hand wearily across his face. Once, perhaps, all he had ever needed to do was to pick up a tennis racquet, roar a few war-cries, slam a few balls over a net, and the world righted itself. But all that was in the past, when things were different, before everything changed. How had it all come to this? Wasn't it just yesterday when they had been best friends and team-mates, and relied on each other for everything? Where were the dreams they had shared, and where was the comfortable fellowship they'd forged together once upon a time, not so long ago? What had happened in the intervening years that had made him feel so… left out? It was as if his friends had gone on into another world and then shut the door behind them so that he was just outside, on the fringes, not even allowed the luxury of peeking in.

_Meet._ The call to arms had come urgently this morning from Inui Sadaharu, who had called at the unholy hour of seven-thirty. Inui said something about a meeting and that Atobe Keigo had ordered them all to gather—captains and vice-captains from Seigaku, Fudomine, Hyoutei, St. Rudolph's, Yamabuki, Rokkaku and Rikkaidai—and how, from what the captains said, it sounded like the old teams were going to turn up, rather than just the captains and vice-captains. They were going to do something that would turn Tezuka's situation round. Inui had admitted readily that he didn't know exactly how they were going to go about it, but if Atobe was behind this, it meant that they were going to succeed. After all, Atobe Keigo never indulged himself in anything that had less than a one hundred per cent chance of success.

The thing was, Inui had sounded distinctly hesitant on the telephone. It made Kawamura wonder just a little if he should even go, even though he had promised he would. He should have been there by now, really, since he had promised—

The sound of the telephone ringing sharply and shrilly shattered the silence, forcing Kawamura out from his self-imposed reverie. He stared at the jangling instrument with a sudden sense of impending doom, his heart thudding loudly against his ribcage. No doubt Inui was calling to politely ask where he was. Kawamura's shoulders slumped as he contemplated the possibility of the telephone conversation. Well, there was no help for it.

Kawamura squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. He reached forward gingerly and picked up the receiver. "_Moshi_ _moshi._"

"Taka-_san_?"

The voice on the telephone was an unexpected blast from the past, a hark back to old days of summer sunshine and blue skies, of rolling green courts and bouncing neon-yellow balls, recalling light brown hair fluttering in the wind, eyes curved like half-moons, a cheerful, ever-present smile —

"Fuji_ko_!" gasped Kawamura.

Melodious laughter tinkled through the telephone receiver and into Kawamura's suddenly perked-up ears. "Yes, it's me, Taka-_san_. How have you been?"

Been? How had he been?

"Great! Good! Burning!" babbled Kawamura, his thoughts scrambling to address the amazing fact that it was _Fuji Syuusuke_ on the line.

"That's wonderful." There was clear pleasure in Fuji's voice. "I haven't heard from you for such a long time. I really miss your sushi, Taka-_san_. And, of course, I miss you too."

_I haven't heard from you for such a long time._

Kawamura felt as if he'd been hit by a powerful serve in the stomach.

_I haven't heard from you for such a long time._

It was true, wasn't it?

He'd been sitting around, moping and wondering why he hadn't heard more regularly from them. But he had never taken the time out to write cards the way Tezuka did. He was never the one who called Fujiko, and he had never spent hard-earned money like a waterfall the way Momo had done, trying to reach Echizen at least three times a week (and more if Momo had been able to help it)—he had never made the time to do so.

"I…"

The voice at the other end gave a sort of wistful sigh. "Will you be coming over to Karuizawa?"

The sudden change in Fuji's tone startled Kawamura. "Oh, er…" mumbled Kawamura, searching desperately for something intelligent to say. "Uh…"

"I'm at Atobe's summer cottage in Karuizawa. You remember that summer in our last year of junior high, when we went to the mountains to train before meeting Rikkaidai in Kanto _taikai_? Hyoutei came to practice with us that time. Apparently they stayed at Atobe's Karuizawa summer... cottage."

Oh, yes, Kawamura remembered that summer all right. It was the summer without their captain. They'd drawn together around Oishi, their vice-captain and their then temporary captain—but it had been a very, very difficult time. Though they had never said it out loud then, every one of them had feared that Tezuka wouldn't be back in time for Nationals. Tezuka was a stupendously good player, but that was not the reason why they had wanted him back. More important was the fact that Tezuka was the anchor in their team, the one thing that they were built around. Tezuka had led them from the beginning—he had been the rock they relied on, and was the one person who through mere look or glance could inspire spirit and confidence, and the passion and courage to win against all odds. He had always been there for them. And now perhaps Tezuka needed them more than anyone else—wait, was _this_ what Fuji_ko_ was trying to say…?

"There are a lot of people here, not just from Seigaku. Fudomine… and Rikkaidai… Yamabuki… Rokkaku… It almost feels as if we're going to play at Kantou or Nationals again…it's like old times again. We haven't seen each other for years, but they came anyway, because they wanted to help us with Momoshiro and Tezuka and Rikkaidai's Yukimura-_san_… it's quite amazing, isn't it, Taka-_san_?"

"Amazing," Kawamura echoed obediently, and suddenly he felt something like shame wash over him.

There they were, a bunch of separate, disparate people who hadn't seen each other for years, and were linked together only by the fact that they had once forged a litany of odd friendships through competitively hitting small, neon-green-yellow balls over low white netting. It was all tremendously bizarre from any normal point of view, and yet somehow they had struck up the sort of friendship that was _real_. This was the type of friendship that could be picked up where they had left off all those years ago, right where the laughter and the tennis had always been. There wasn't a name for it, there wasn't any way to describe why it was that way, and there was no any way of quantifying it. There was no emotional baggage there at all, Kawamura realised; not if he didn't want any attached. Kawamura felt a bit silly now, all that angst about not being contacted and feeling abandoned and all that jazz. So what if they hadn't spoken for more than a year? When had he come to doubt himself and everyone else? Maybe it was all those afternoon soaps his mother kept taping and watching– and making him watch them with her.

But that didn't matter.

What really mattered was that it was important to do something to help Tezuka and that he, Kawamura Takashi, could be part of this—whatever it turned out to be.

His mind made up, Kawamura blurted out quickly: "Fuji_ko_, please tell the rest that I'm coming right away!"

"…?"

"I'm on my way, Fuji_ko_! Wait for me!" As an afterthought, Kawamura added: "And—and I'll bring _sushi_!"

On the other end of the line, Fuji chuckled suddenly, a light-hearted sound that was somehow very different from his earlier laughter. Kawamura felt the sound wrap itself around his heart like a warm burst of sunlight and found his own mouth turning up at the corners in return.

"We'll all wait for you here, Taka-_san_," Fuji said finally, and Kawamura could hear the echoes of laughter still in Fuji's clearly happier, brisker tone. "Don't be late."

"I won't," promised Kawamura fervently, and this time he meant it.

"Good night, Taka-_san_."

"Good night, Fuji_ko_."

Kawamura glanced at the clock as he hung up. It was pushing midnight, so he'd catch some sleep first, he decided, and set the clock so that he could wake at about three to make some _sushi_, before racing to catch the first bus to Tokyo Station and taking the Nagano Express from there to Karuizawa. From there he could call Fuji, and ask him how to get to Atobe's summer cottage... or mansion, or whatever it was, really, because if memory served him right, Atobe's "cottage" was a palatial mansion with eight tennis courts, a couple of Olympic-sized swimming pools, and…

Kawamura was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

That night, in his dreams, he saw once more the chilling glint of thick, square-rimmed glasses and the soft scritch-scratch of a pencil on lined paper; silver-tinged blue eyes coupled with deceptively light, sweet smiles that were mostly genuine and always dangerous; the presence of an immovable pillar of strength and sure leadership; a strong feeling of steady, unyielding dedication and care; a sure sense of dogged persistence and unquenchable passion ... and, always hovering on the edges of his consciousness, were the familiar sounds of _nanjaroh_ _hoi hoi _and _mada_ _mada da ne_ echoing and fading into the unreachable extremes of the green courts and blue skies in his dreams.

—They were... good dreams…

* * *


	7. Beyond A Tribute: Interlude II

© 2008 Gold

**Title**: Beyond: A Tribute

Interlude II: Burning Heart

**Author: **Gold  
**Rating:** K

**Disclaimer: **_Prince of Tennis _is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-san or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of _Prince of Tennis _. It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-san or aforesaid entities.

**Notes:** This chapter is centred around one of the nicest and most overlooked characters in all of Prince of Tennis—Kawamura Takashi, all-round good guy and _sushi_ chef.

* * *

_**Interlude II**_

Kawamura grimly dipped his hands into the small bowl of clear water, the cool liquid seeping into the hairline cracks on the surface of his skin, softening the callused fingers that no longer gripped tennis racquets and yet had never forgotten the furry, velvety feel of a little yellow ball. Brows knitted ferociously together and lips pursed tightly, he finally took his fingers out of the bowl and carefully patted them on a dry cloth by the side.

Then he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

In his mind's eye, he could see himself, tennis racquet in hand, fingers curled around a furry, neon yellow ball, throwing the ball high into the air, and whacking the tiny yellow projectile to an imagined opponent, all the way across a wide green court, over the low, taut netting and the white lines that ran so straight and true as they marked the courts for singles and doubles...

His eyes flew open.

_(Green courts)._

The _nori_ was flat and green, and rough beneath his fingertips, like the texture of dried flowers pressed into crinkly, veined, paper-thin sheets.

_(Service play)._

His fingers dipped shakily into the _wasabi_, scooping up the thick green condiment clumsily and then lavishing it with abandon over the _nori_.

_(White netting and lines marking singles and doubles)._

White rice, plump and short-grained and vinegar-flavoured, spread unevenly in a somewhat hilly-looking layer over the _wasabi_, which did its best to erupt uncooperatively through the cracks between the grains.

_(Bouncing the neon yellow ball)._

_Anago_ formed another layer, hastily-cut slices crowding the rice, and getting rapidly _wasabi_-stained.

_(Throwing the ball into the air)._

He added a final glob of _wasabi_, trying to spread over the _anago_ slices what should have been a mere _daub_ of the green condiment.

_(Serve)._

He rolled it, _nori_, vinegared rice, _anago_ and _wasabi_ packed together into a long roll, ignoring the fact that the _wasabi_ and rice were all but oozing out from the roll. Then he picked up a knife and hacked out four unusually awkward cuts that nearly produced scars on the wooden board he had placed beneath the sushi. The unfortunate result was four pieces of somewhat overstuffed, little cylindrical shapes of different lengths and somewhat serrated edges.

He drew a deep, tremulous breath.

One more time.

_Nori_.

_Wasabi._

_Vinegared_ _Rice._

_Wasabi._

_Anago._

_Wasabi._

Roll, cut, serve.

Four more wobbly pieces.

He rinsed his shaking fingers in the small bowl of clear water that was rapidly becoming polluted with tiny bits of mashed rice and green globules.

"Takashi, what are you doing here?!"

Kawamura froze, three fingers of one hand still trailing in the cloudy water of the bowl, and blinked vaguely. "Ah... '_tou_—_san_!"

His father was standing at the doorway, his arms akimbo and a very familiar scowl on his face. "Takashi, I thought I told you to rest! You didn't sleep last night! I don't need help in the shop today—and you're wasting all the good ingredients! Now go back to bed!"

Kawamura held out his hands and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, '_tou-san_ … I promise I'll clean up the mess later. I'm going to Karuizawa this morning… Inui called yesterday and said we're all going to Atobe-san's house there, to see how we can do something about Tezuka and Momo… Fujiko called too… he said he missed my _sushi_… I promised him… " His voice cracked slightly.

Kawamura's father took a quick, anxious look at the heavy circles under his boy's eyes, shadows that made him seem so much older than his twenty-one years. Takashi had always been a shy, quiet boy, much like his mother when she was a young girl. But the elder Kawamura thought he remembered a time when his son's face was less worn with care. If these last three years had been hard on Takashi, the last few days had been more painful still.

Kawamura's father darted a glance at the single tray of sushi pieces, all heavily dyed green, several looking somewhat wobbly, and cringed. It was bad enough that they looked as if they had been serially dipped into _wasabi_ and left overnight to stew; it was an utter insult to his craft and teaching to have his own son create such—such miserable _dumplings_ of rice and _nori_!

"Takashi..." Kawamura's father took a deep breath. _Must not scold son.__Son having a bad time._ "Sushi reflects the heart of the maker," the elder Kawamura said through gritted teeth, unconsciously echoing what a good man had once said to his son many years ago. The elder Kawamura waved his hands almost frantically. "And Takashi, your heart is not still and in the proper place to make _sushi_."

His son bit his lip and made a gesture that looked very much like he was wringing his hands.

Kawamura senior stifled a sigh. It had been three years since the boy had left high school. Things had seemed fine in the first year, but over the last year or so, Takashi had seemed a little quieter, and a little more intense. He had never been a great talker, but together with the increased silence came the loss of the usual gentle, cheerful air that he always wore. As a father, he had simply thought that his son was just growing up; however, his wife—that is, Takashi's mother—had often been worried enough to ask the boy if anything was wrong. Of course, Takashi had always assured her that everything was all right. He didn't always understand this son of his, but he tried. He didn't know why his boy was growing so quiet, and he didn't know if there was anything wrong—but so long as the boy wasn't mixed up in gangs and drugs, it was all right. The boy would find his own way. That was the way of life.

Now, this matter at hand, the one that was really troubling his boy and causing the ridiculous—_this_ one he could understand.

The elder Kawamura rubbed his chin, his scowl lessening somewhat, and glanced again at his son. "Takashi, you shouldn't worry so much," he said finally, his tone mellowing a little. "Things will turn out all right—it'll have a way of coming out all right, you'll see. Take it from an old man like me. You boys from Seigaku are good boys. Your captain—someone set him up, everybody knows he's not like that. They'll find the truth and the ones who did it. And your friend, the one who's missing, you just wait and see, he'll probably turn up in some village and end up eating all the food in it, ha ha, he always liked to eat a lot here..."

Kawamura moistened dry lips. "Thank you, '_tou-san_." His voice was a little hoarse. Automatically, he scooped up another two fingerfuls of rice and began another shaky attempt to mould it. "I know they'll be fine, just... wondering how they are..."

His father eyed the dismal pieces of attempts at making _sushi_. "You're no use today," he said, shaking his head and sighing. "Did you not think, Takashi, that _sushi_ must be made, fresh, with fresh ingredients? It will be four hours, maybe five hours by the time you reach Karuizawa and our Kawamura Sushi will not be worth eating." He paused and thought for a moment, knitting his brows together. "I will tell you what. Come with me to the market today. I think we can still be in time to get some good ingredients. Then we will come back here and pack the ingredients. I will close the shop today and I will drive you down to Karuizawa myself. When we get there, you and I will make the _sushi_ for them—good, fresh _sushi_."

Kawamura's voice was filled with wonder. "'_tou-san_..."

His father waved a hand in a lordly manner. "No need for thanks. Now—clear this mess up!"

Kawamura blinked and immediately began scrambling to clear the counter. "_Hai, 'tou-san_..."

The elder Kawamura's eyebrows twitched compulsively as his son accidentally knocked over the bowl of cloudy water, banged his elbow twice on the counter as he tried to put back the remaining pieces of _anago_ in the ice-box, and then fell over a stool.

"And leave the ... _sushi_... behind."

* * *


	8. Beyond A Tribute: Part 5

© 2008 Gold

**Title**: Beyond: A Tribute

Part 5

**Author: **Gold  
**Rating:** K

**Disclaimer: **_Prince of Tennis _is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-san or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of _Prince of Tennis _. It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-san or aforesaid entities.

**Notes:** I need to improve the appalling disorganisation of this story. I'm going to try…currently, I'm still devoting chapters to sifting through the emotions of the boys.

**The Story So Far: **

The boys of the Prince of Tennis have graduated from high school. Some have gone on to university, some have turned pro on the international tennis circuits and yet others have gone on to choose other paths in life. Each is busy chasing dreams or else trying to find his own place in life. Some have lost contact; other once-close friends have drifted apart and hardly make any effort to keep in touch. Some, of course, still try to keep in touch. It's the price that's paid for growing up and growing apart.

In July 2010, though, the lives of some of the boys begin to unravel. Tezuka Kunimitsu is ensnared in a drug/performance-booster scandal that threatens total destruction of his tennis career; Momoshiro Takeshi disappears suddenly on an innocuous varsity camp aimed to help primary school children learn the basics of tennis, and is presumed dead; Yukimura Seiichi collapses before an important match.

This is the story of how the ties of old friendship drew the boys of the Prince of Tennis together and uncovered the truth behind the drug scandal, Momoshiro's disappearance and Yukimura's collapse.

* * *

_Wait for me, Echizen! I'll be coming soon!_

_Aa, sempai—I'm going first. _

The sky was black as pitch.

Echizen Ryoma stood at the window miserably, hating the ugly colour of the sky. His fingers were wrapped loosely around a can of grape-flavoured Fanta, of the type sold in Japan, and there were distinct purplish stains around and on his lips. But though his fingers kept the can loosely in his grip, the knuckles and joints of his hands were white with tension, as if some very great force was being held back.

_What happened, seishounen?_

He didn't know. He couldn't answer. He didn't _have _an answer.

"_Echizen Ryoma has made six double faults in a row— what do you think, Simon?"_

"_I can't explain it at all, Bill—I've never seen him do anything like this before! In fact in all my years as a sports commentator, I've really never seen someone self-destruct quite like that..."_

"_Well, Emmelmann's playing rather well—"_

"—_but Echizen's playing is somewhat unexpected today—"_

"—_Unexpectedly disastrous. Well, someone's got to say it—oh, there's another double fault. I can't keep count of how many times I've said that in this match. Just what kind of tennis does that boy wonder think he's playing?!" _

What kind of tennis, indeed? On the courts at one of the most important tennis events on the calendar, he had tripped, stumbled, fallen and generally humiliated himself completely, missing simple shots, occasionally putting up a haphazard show of his normal brilliance and then fading away horrifically, like a volcano eruption that is a mere sputter of the expected Vesuvius or Pompeii-like display. Where were the fire and genius he had shown throughout the last year on the circuit and, before that, on the youth circuit? Suddenly he looked like some awkward, puberty-stricken youth who was yet to come into his own as an adult.

He had walked away after the match, shoulders slumped, tennis bag hoisted over one shoulder—but it was not the scarlet and black tennis bag marked _Prince _that had become as much of a trademark as his small white cap with its bright red 'R'. This bag he carried was much smaller, and less professional-looking; it was also faded, though still in excellent shape and condition, and had once been a proud, rich blue colour. Along the side of the bag, the part that faced outward and landed neatly within the scope of every camera lens within sight, was a string of white letters that dwarfed the well-known Yonex logo and meant absolutely nothing to anyone who was familiar with the English language. S-E-I-G-A-K-U. _Seigaku._ It was not an English word.The fans who had followed his career from the beginning would have recognised the bag as one that had appeared early in his battles on the international youth circuit, and had later given way to the larger, bulkier and admittedly more useful scarlet-and-black _Prince_ bags.

Afterwards, the players in the players' tunnel leading to the locker rooms would spread the word that they had never seen Echizen Ryoma look so defeated before, his shoulders hunched, the brim of the little white cap casting a shadow that hid his eyes, and the way he walked, marching on without a word to anyone, even his fellow Japanese players.

They would not understand.

He did not understand it himself. It was not as if he did not have good friends—not as if he had never had close friends before.

But this one was... special.

This one was his first friend. This one was the only one he would have liked to call his _best_ friend, perhaps, if he had even thought about such a thing. This one was the first one he had bowed his head to, before all others, and said, _Thank you, sempai_.

_Thank you for the times you dragged me out._

_Thank you for the burger-eating contests._

_Thank you for picking me up every day. _

_Thank you for finding Karupin._

_Thank you for grounding my nose into the dirt when you decided I was getting too cocky for my own good._

_Thank you for backing me up every time._

_Thank you for all the things you've done for me and I've never thanked you for._

They should have stayed best friends. If he was looking for someone to blame for that, well, the buck stopped right at him.

He was far too young and hungry—he'd always been too young and too hungry—and he had forgotten what it was like to have the time for anything except tennis, so it was always the boy who had been his best friend and favourite _sempai_ who called and sometimes sent one-liner e-mails that went straight to the point: _Oi, Echizen, how are you? Pick up my 'phone call next time—you can't go around ignoring your sempai like that, it's not right, not right at all!_

He had never answered the emails. It always felt funny having to write down what he thought. He would much rather have said it out loud—but then again, he wasn't fond of saying too much, since he didn't really know how to say things that had no relation to tennis whatsoever. Heck, they were boys, not mushy girls, and they didn't need to gush. He had once heard his mother say, in exasperation, that men had a silent language that was all their own.

But of course he sometimes answered the 'phone calls—once in a while, that is, when he wasn't training or eating or sleeping.

_Oi, Echizen, how are you? You didn't answer my last email again!_

_I'm fine. I'm not like some people who spend all their time eating burgers, Momo-sempai._

_Oi, oi—you still have the guts to call me sempai after insulting me like that?_

_Mada_ _mada da ne—it isn't an insult if it's true, Momo-sempai._

_Ch'! You haven't changed a bit, Echizen. You're not cute, not cute at all._

_... I have to go, it's time for practice._

Their conversations were always very short. He never really had the time to talk—and anyway, he had always felt that it never truly mattered, because it was just Momo-sempai, and even if he didn't pick up this time, he could take the call the next time, or the next time after that, or the next next time after that. No problems there. Momo-sempai might just bellow a little bit louder the next time he did take the call, but Echizen knew that he could always hold the 'phone a little further away from his ear.

Echizen hadn't noticed, though, how the pattern of their communication changed. The 'phone calls got shorter. The e-mails stopped coming. Then the 'phone calls turned into 'phone messages.

_Oi, Echizen, the newspapers said you beat mamushi. Tell him I said that he's embarrassing your sempai-tachi!_

_Oi, Echizen, call when you can._

_Oi, Echizen, ha, realised today how far America is from Japan._

_Oi, Echizen... ah, never mind. _

He wished that he had saved those 'phone messages. He wished that he had picked up the call that had come in on his mobile phone that day—but he had ignored it, because he had another practice match in fifteen minutes and he wanted to practice a new shot he thought might work against Tezuka-_buchou_'s infamous Black Hole (which was what they were now calling the new, improved Tezuka Zone Version 12—Echizen had broken the first eleven versions, but Tezuka just kept raising his Zone to new levels, which was usually something that was supposed to happen only in virtual reality games... and not in real life).

Echizen wished and wished that he could have done some things differently—he always thought Momo-_sempai_ would be there next time, every time—he had never imagined that there could be no next time. Cyclones could come and go, _tsunami_ could make broken matchsticks of luxurious cruise ships, dinosaurs could be wiped from the face of the earth... but his Momo-_sempai_ would always be there, lurking in that corner of the globe that was the only place Echizen would ever truly call home—nestled in that corner of his heart that he kept for special things that made him remember home. Maybe this was a punishment for him, sent by the gods, to remind him that he should not have taken things for granted.

For it was just two mornings ago, exactly four hours before Echizen Ryoma's match against Jan Emmelmann, that Kevin Smith had said out of the blue: "That guy!!"

They had been in a middle of a light practice rally, so Echizen had been rather annoyed. He disliked it when Kevin started chattering in the middle of practice, even if it was a simple, no-brainer of a practice rally. Kevin had some very bad habits sometimes. "Don't get distracted."

Kevin had rolled his eyes. "Yeah, _whatever_."

"If you're talking about _buchou_, he'll get through this," Echizen had responded, narrowing his eyes and turning what should have been a light return into a powerful 150km-per-hour serve so that Kevin was forced to add some speed in order to retrieve it.

Predictably enough, Kevin had been forced to throw himself to the other side of the court and lunge like a first-time ballet dancer in order to hit the ball back—and had missed with spectacular non-precision. "Not that stone-faced captain of yours— the _other_ guy! Your _best_ friend in Japan, that weird guy—I forgot his name! _You _know who!"

Echizen had blinked, frowning slightly as he served a fresh ball, lobbing it higher into the air than he had expected.

"_What_ the—Ryoma, this is a _rally_, not a match!!! What are you _doing_?!?!" Kevin had roared angrily as he leapt into the air to take the shot.

Echizen paid no attention. Something seemed to be niggling at the back of his mind. "… which weird guy?" he asked finally. _All _his friends were bizarre. _Buchou_ had a face like carved granite; Fuji-_sempai_ smiled so continuously that Echizen sometimes wondered when that upturned mouth would fall off; Inui-_sempai_ was going to commit murder with his _Inui Jiru_ one of these days, mild-mannered Kawamura-_sempai_ had a roaring alter-ego that emerged every time he held a tennis racquet, Kaidoh-_sempai_ insisted on wearing a forest-green headscarf that made him look like a pirate-wannabe all day...

"The one… with… violet… _eyes!!!_" Kevin's racket smashed the ball into the ground with such force that it stayed there for perhaps two seconds, spinning, before bouncing back up.

_Violet eyes_… violet eyes...? Momo-_sempai…_?

"What do you mean?" He had to use both hands to deliver a return—Kevin was, as always, one of the strongest players on the tour.

"Your cousin, Nanako-chan, told me he's disappeared!" Kevin shouted back, hitting the ball sharply across the net. "What, now you've sudden amnesia, Ryoma? Oh, and by the way, you _do _remember how to play tennis, right? You know what a double-fault is, right?"

Disappeared?

"… what are you talking about?"

Now it was Kevin's turn to blink as his racket connected with the ball, sending it sailing high into the air. "You really didn't know?!"

"Know what?" Echizen narrowed his eyes, judging the precise path of the ball. Insult me like that, will you? _Amnesia_? Hah!

"Uh… maybe it's better you don't know..." Kevin's face had begun to look somewhat anxious, although Echizen couldn't really tell.

"Tell me, or I'll tell my mother just what you were _really_ doing out late last night." He waited for the ball to come down a little lower. _A little bit more…c'mon, ball..._

"You _wouldn't_!" Kevin had somehow developed an unholy terror of Echizen's mother... it might have something to do with the fact that he had once seen her chase her husband around the house with the biggest frying pan he had ever seen...

"Yeah?" Echizen had leapt into the air, a tiny smile curving the corners of his mouth. That ball was going to be perfect. Just wait till he did a _Super Great-o Momoshiro Special Dunk-u Smash-u_ right back at Kevin.

"Fine! He's been missing for a week. Went for some camp, got lost and no one can find him. They've been carrying out searches with dogs and everything."

For the briefest of moments, Echizen had frozen. A _week?_ _Missing_?

The ball had connected solidly with Echizen's racket and missed Kevin's head by exactly five centimetres or so. The blond teenager had screamed blue murder and hurled accusations about attempted homicide, but Echizen hadn't really been bothered. All of a sudden, he had an insane urge to drop everything, to run, catch the first plane that he could find, and fly back to Tokyo… because he knew that _he_ could find him. But he had a tournament to play. And he had more than a sneaking suspicion that Momoshiro Takeshi would have killed him if he had left just like that. TheAssociation of World Men's Tennis Professionalswould likely have suspended him. Nowhere in the rules did it provide for compassionate leave to find a missing friend. That sort of excuse was manifestly inadequate and anyway, there were hundreds of players who had played through personal grief and devastating loss. What price his situation as compared to theirs?

But he was afraid. He was frightened beyond belief, of the something unspoken of out there, of the words _missing_ and _dogs_ and _search_.

He needed to go.

There would always be some things that were far more important than tennis and getting through the fourth round of a tournament. He could always try again next year, because the Masters tournaments would always be there, whereas nothing would matter if he didn't go back right away to look for Momo-_sempai_. It was as if a little part of his heart had been broken off right there and then. He couldn't stay on for the sake of some mouldy old trophy, and then go back to look for Momo-_sempai_ after the tournament was done. Something would have to give and Echizen was very clear on what would have to go, because there was no medicine in this world that could cure regret.

_You promised you would come, Momo-sempai. Now I'm going to have to make you keep your promise. _

The distance between them spanned more than half a world, more than a couple of ocean between, more than mountain ranges, more than the clear blue skies of over a dozen different countries, and—more than half a lifetime—

_Wait for me, Momo-sempai. I'm coming soon. _

* * *


	9. Beyond A Tribute: Part 6

**2008 Gold**

**Title**: Beyond: A Tribute

**Part 6**: In The Eye of The Storm

**Author: **Gold  
**Rating:** K+

**Disclaimer: **_Prince of Tennis _is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-san or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of _Prince of Tennis _. It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-san or aforesaid entities.

**Notes: **

**1. **I wanted Kaidoh in this story somehow. So I threw out the chapter that originally featured a brawl involving Kirihara, Echizen, Ibu Shinji and Kevin Smith. With all the chapters I've thrown out so far, I may have to start a new section aptly named Beyond: A Tribute—Excerpts That Didn't Make Osakada Tomoko's Cut.

**2.** _Rianu_ asked in her review where Akutagawa Jiroh was. Currently, he's on his way back from Europe (I think he's training as a competitive skier, although I can't be sure). He's on the same flight as Yagyuu Hiroshi, although neither of them will know until they end up heading for the same men's bathroom on the plane at the same time.

* * *

**Part Six: In The Eye of The Storm**

It was midnight in Cincinnati, Ohio, United States of America.

Kaidoh Kaoru shut his eyes for a moment and took a long, deep breath, shifting a little in his armchair—and his eyes flew open as he ended up sinking even more deeply into it, much to his chagrin. This in itself was not very surprising, since the armchair was made of the finest calf leather. One expected no less in the private rooms of the most expensive suite in the best hospital in Cincinnati. Kaidoh's brows drew even closer together as he willed himself to remain still. It was completely out of character for him to be this restless, but too many things had happened this last week, each event worse than the one before, and it felt as if someone had seized him without warning and then thrown him into the eye of a fierce tornado. _Discombobulated_. That was what it was like for him now, in a world that was spiralling crazily out of control, beyond all rhyme or reason.

Kaidoh's eyes strayed involuntarily to the elegant, beechwood door in the corner of the suite. Beyond it was a room. Kaidoh had not yet glimpsed the inside (and he hoped he would never need to), but he was aware that Yukimura Seiichi was there, in that room beyond the beechwood door, fathoms deep in a sedated sleep after having being subjected to a battery of medical tests over the last few hours.

Nine hours before, just as he was about to begin his match against Sanada Genichirou, Yukimura Seiichi had collapsed before the world, in front of thousands of cameras and flashbulbs, in a 'live' that was beamed from television set to television set around the globe. In a move that would make the covers of a thousand publications and inspire the launch of a few hundred (more) fan associations, Sanada Genichirou shot across the court in record-breaking time, just in time to catch Yukimura's body before it hit the ground. The fact that his accompanying cry of mingled grief and helplessness (so described by one fascinated newspaper wag) echoed around the stadium simply made for far better reality television than most people had seen in a very long time.

In the ensuing confusion, the medical personnel that had rushed on to the court found themselves engaged on the losing end of an unexpected tug-of-war with Sanada, who was desperately trying to resuscitate Yukimura by himself and absolutely refused to let go of him. Eventually, Sanada had to be forcibly restrained by a combination of security officers, the umpire and some of the ball boys, while Yukimura was carefully laid on a stretcher in preparation to remove him from the courts. Kaidoh remembered standing up suddenly and impulsively in his seat in the stands, and the thought that flashed through his mind then was whether it would be faster to take the players' entrance to the court, or to leap down from where he was, and possibly break an ankle. But then there was another loud gasp from the watching spectators and Kaidoh had looked down to the court, just in time to catch sight of two familiar figures striding on to the courts, shoulder to shoulder. Kaidoh recognised one of them as Tezuka Kunimitsu, but the sight of the other made Kaidoh's eyes widen in astonishment—_Atobe Keigo_.

Within two hours, Yukimura had been removed into the care of some of Atobe's personal doctors, as Atobe coolly steamrolled over the protests from Yukimura's usual medical team, making it very clear just _who_ was really in charge. The anxious organisers of the tournament and the equally worried AMTP would take a decision on the outcome of the match—a postponement or a walkover for Sanada—by the end of the next day, or as soon as the doctors had produced a medical report, whichever happened earlier. The media circus that had been buzzing persistently since Tezuka's sudden fall from grace were only too eager to feast on this startling and most newsworthy turn of events, eventually forcing Atobe to take steps to rescue the situation from being hijacked by the tepid responses from Yukimura's management (the same folks who had been blindsided by Tezuka's situation earlier).

At 6 p.m. on 29th July 2010, Cincinnati time, three hours after Yukimura's collapse, a terse statement was issued to the press, informing them shortly that Yukimura's condition had stabilized and that doctors were still examining him. It was signed off by a mysterious Taki Haginosuke of the as-yet-unheard-of AMI Corporation. At 8 p.m. the same evening, Cincinnati time, a second statement was released to the press, informing them that a press conference would be held within the next twenty-four hours, with the exact time and venue to be confirmed later. At the bottom of that simple statement were eight names—Atobe Keigo, Tezuka Kunimitsu, Yukimura Seiichi, Sanada Genichirou, Kirihara Akaya, Kaidoh Kaoru, Ibu Shinji and Echizen Ryoma. (To be honest, Shinji, Echizen and Kirihara were nowhere to be found at that time, and Yukimura was obviously not in any position to object, but Atobe considered these minor tics not worth dithering over). All media enquiries were referred to one Taki Haginosuke of AMI Corporation.

Kaidoh took a deep breath and sank even more deeply into his armchair. Across from him was a small sofa upholstered in rich, cobalt-blue velvet with alternating silken stripes of gold and lavender. Tezuka Kunimitsu sat on that sofa, serenely taking his refreshment from a cup of Earl Grey, as composed as if he were Her Majesty, the Queen of England at her most gracious. His eyes were fixed on the book he was reading, although occasionally he glanced up and allowed his gaze to scan over the room briefly before returning to the page he was reading. Waves of intense, rock-solid calm seemed to emanate from him, and Kaidoh felt vaguely reassured.

To Tezuka's right, on that same sofa, Echizen Ryoma was curled up like a wounded kitten, large, haunted eyes fixed dazedly on the little white cap he was turning over and over in his hands. Currently, Echizen was not in a happy place—he had had a brawl with Kirihara Akaya barely an hour ago, leaving his face patched with several gauze bandages, and his left cheek was so swollen that it was the size of a tennis ball, and he had great difficult speaking. To top it off, he was sporting several nasty-looking bruises and gashes, especially one beauty of a bruise right smack on his left shin.

Kaidoh cast a brief look in Echizen's direction. All the bruises and gashes and miles of gauze didn't tell the whole story. Obviously, this was all about Momoshiro, the-_baka_-who-had-disappeared. Kaidoh would never openly admit it, but yes, there had been this gnawing anxiety in his bones since the day he had read the news about Momoshiro's disappearance. Still, Kaidoh was also equally certain—as sure of this as the sun rose in the east every day—that Momoshiro would turn up. Kaidoh _knew_ Momoshiro—knew his idiocy, his brilliance, his fearlessness and the way Momoshiro simply powered his way through everything, good or bad. Momoshiro would pull through, wherever he was. Eventually. It was just a matter of time. Kaidoh only hoped that it wouldn't take too long, because Echizen was treading the fine line between sanity and madness, and Kaidoh himself felt as if he, too, would snap if this week became any worse than it already was.

"Kaidoh-_sempai_." That slightly garbled voice was Echizen Ryoma's. "Have you talked to Inui-_sempai_ lately?" Echizen's tone was expressionless. His eyes rested fixedly on the little white cap he was turning over and over in his hands.

Kaidoh's brows furrowed a little. "… yes…_ fshuuu…_"

Echizen moved slightly. "You talk to him... every day?"

Kaidoh blinked. "…_fshuuu…_no…"

Echizen's head sank so low that Kaidoh could no longer see the other boy's face, but Echizen's fingers had clenched into fists around the little white cap. "… what do you talk about…?"

A pause.

"The weather," Kaidoh said finally. He focused on the elaborate (Persian?) hand-woven carpet currently underfoot. "Tennis." _Just… things._

Echizen's voice was low and soft. "… do you call him…?"

Kaidoh stared down at his hands. "Sometimes." Thinking about it brought back memories, some of it unwelcome. He looked up at Echizen, trying to find the words to explain that he empathised_. _Momoshiro Takeshi was to Echizen Ryoma what Inui Sadaharu meant to Kaidoh Kaoru—more than a _sempai_, more than a team-mate, more than a best friend. In Kaidoh's case, whatever success he had ever achieved on the international circuits was something that he shared with Inui Sadaharu, even if the rest of the world did not know it. Inui, in Kaidoh's view, was the reason Kaidoh Kaoru was standing there, almost at the apex of the tennis world.

When he was eighteen years old, Kaidoh Kaoru left behind everything he knew and loved, and moved to America to pursue a mad, mad dream. He was going to be a professional tennis player.

According to Kaidoh's geography lessons in school, everybody in the United States of America spoke English. Kaidoh realised by the end of his first twenty-four hours there that his geography teacher had been wrong. Americans spoke maybe a thousand different languages, and several other polyglots that passed for English but probably weren't. America was a melting pot of different races, different tongues – and different English-es. Everybody had different accents and different ways of expressing what they meant. Some of them spoke English very fast, some swallowed their words as fast as they said them, and some of them just sounded plain funny. English had been one of Kaidoh's best subjects in school, but here, in the land where everybody was supposed to speak in the language he had so painstakingly learned in school, Kaidoh Kaoru found himself unable to comprehend and unable to be comprehended.

In his first three months there, Kaidoh travelled to over twenty junior pro tournaments in twelve different cities. He crashed out in the first round for about half of them and made it to the second round for the rest of the tournaments. His opponents were big, strong and irritating. Several of them liked to grunt loudly after each serve. Several liked to chomp on bananas in between sets although it didn't visibly have positive effects on their game. Several liked to play mind games that served no purpose other than to insult their rivals as crudely and as lewdly as possible. Kaidoh had always thought that tennis was meant to be a gentleman's sport, not a bloodsport, but a fair number of the players had apparently never learned or never been taught that. Those were the ones who were there for the glory of the fame, not the laurels of the game.

Kaidoh's weight dropped by an average of one kilogram a month during those first few months. The coaches overseeing him were concerned, but not over-anxious. They had diagnosed Kaidoh's condition correctly as merely an extra-severe bout of homesickness which, in their experience, generally wore off within six months or so. If it didn't, Kaidoh would have to pack up and return to Japan. He would not be the first talented player to do so, nor would he be the last. The problems he faced, after all, were not unique to him alone. For every one player who makes it to the pro courts, ten thousand others fall by the wayside in defeat, unable to cope with the harsh reality of professional tennis. Kaidoh would have to toughen himself both physically and mentally before he could truly claim a place amongst those who were qualified to play on the professional courts of the world.

Kaidoh knew that he had to do something—he had come this far, and he wanted to be able to go further. He would not give up and he refused to fail so close to his goal; if the coaches could not help him, then it was up to him to find the right person who _could_ assist him. There was, in effect, only one person who might just be able to pull it off—Inui Sadaharu.

Inui Sadaharu was Kaidoh's _sempai_ and very good friend. Their almost-best-friendship had been forged during Kaidoh's second year in junior high and plodded steadily all through their high school years. Sometimes Kaidoh secretly thought that they had always been meant to be friends. They clicked together easily; Inui had a soft spot for Kaidoh, who in turn had a very healthy respect for his _sempai_, who was one of Seigaku's best singles players. They were team-mates, good friends, and regular training partners outside of club practice. Inui had been the Seigaku regulars' data specialist and unofficial training consultant, drawing on his data of their physical condition and tennis skills to devise their diet, training regimens and also three-quarters of their regular drills. He was also the architect of special daily training menus that had helped Kaidoh to improve his physical condition and tennis skills over the years. Kaidoh trusted that Inui—and not the nutritionist and coaches—was the one person best-placed to decide what should be done.

Inui Sadaharu heard Kaidoh out and then he had asked questions: about Kaidoh's new diet, new training menu, new coach's habits, new practice times, the results of Kaidoh's last physical, and so on and so forth. The upshot was that Kaidoh had found in his email inbox the very next day, a very long email, complete with six separate files attached—brand new training menus, a new diet, and also recipes for some dubious and foul-tasting juices that, according to Inui, were beneficial for one's health. It had touched Kaidoh—clearly Inui must have worked through the night without any rest in order to have come up with those. To the consternation of his nutritionist and coaches, Kaidoh had immediately begun following the instructions in Inui's email and kept to a strict, Inui-sanctioned diet, even going to the extent of preparing the foods and drinks himself when the nutritionist, in a fit of pique, refused to prepare the food in the menus he gave her. Kaidoh never made the request of her again.

Within a month, Kaidoh's physical condition had improved and he was registering improved performances in the tournaments; within three months, Kaidoh was beginning to _win_ tournaments. The coaches patted him on the back and told him how pleased they were that he had overcome his mental block. The nutritionist sulked and treated him as coldly as she could. Kaidoh had said nothing, but continued working out, training, eating and resting as Inui had instructed. Inui's advice, as always, was deadly accurate.

It had been more than two years since that day, Kaidoh thought. But every Saturday night, without fail, regardless of which continent or which country he was in, Kaidoh would report to Inui the results of his training for that week. Inui would make comments, offer suggestions and generally play to perfection the role of Kaidoh's long-distance nutritionist and personal trainer. Sometimes, they talked as friends do, about other things—their families, their friends, whether Echizen was still drinking the Inui-recommended dosage of milk daily, how Fuji had taken on a part-time job at a newspaper, thermodynamics, the fourth dimension, baseball games—

_Brrrrrrrrrr. Brrrrrrrrrr. Brrrrrrrrrr. Brrrrrrrrrr._

—The mobile phone in Kaidoh's pocket vibrated four times, rousing him from his reverie. Kaidoh reached into his pocket, pulled it out, and read the message on the little screen.

_Kaoru, Renji and I need to talk to Atobe and Tezuka urgently. Is it possible to do so now? Thank you. –Inui Sadaharu_

Kaidoh stood up abruptly. "_Buchou_."

Opposite him, Tezuka lifted his eyes from his book.

Kaidoh silently handed him the mobile phone.

Tezuka read the message on it. Then he, too, stood up.

Atobe Keigo had set up shop in a corner of the suite that was equipped with full business facilities: a large, heavy oak desk, a state-of-the-art laser printer, a powerful-looking photocopier, and several electronic and computer gizmos. Atobe was working off his Blackberry and his very expensive-looking lavender-and-silver laptop, whilst maintaining a telephone conversation on one of his many gaily-coloured mobile phones. Kabaji Munehiro stood behind Atobe, as expected, a stolid and familiar presence in an otherwise curious setting.

Atobe watched as Tezuka and Kaidoh approached, still listening to the other person on his mobile phone. It was Kabaji who took the mobile phone that Tezuka held out, and passed it to Atobe.

"One moment, Yuushi." Atobe glanced at Inui's message on the mobile phone and then at Tezuka and Kaidoh. "Tezuka and Kaidoh Kaoru are here. You had better get Inui Sadaharu and Yanagi Renji in. – No, _ore-sama_ will call you shortly. Use the sixth conference room and tell Miyamoto to get the equipment ready." Atobe snapped shut his mobile phone and looked hard at Tezuka and Kaidoh. "It seems that Inui and Yanagi may be on to something. – What is it, Kabaji?"

"Takahiro-_sensei_ and Aramaki-_sensei_ have just informed that they have carried out some tests on Sanada-_san_—the same tests as the ones they carried out on Yukimura-_san_."

Atobe's gaze grew sharp and even Tezuka's eyes seemed to narrow a little.

"They carried out the tests they did on Yukimura—on Sanada as well?" Atobe placed his mobile phone on the desk, his fingers tapping lightly against the oak surface. "Did they say why?"

"No."

The beat of Atobe's fingers against the surface of the desk escalated. "_Ore_-_sama_ is missing something here and _ore-sama_ has this feeling that it's a big something. Tell them that _ore-sama _will see them in forty minutes. Inform them also that anything that involves something more major than keeping Yukimura on a saline or glucose drip has to go through _ore-sama _first."

"_Usu_."

"Update Taki, but tell him that there are to be no leaks for this—authorised or otherwise."

"_Usu_."

Atobe pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. "Is the video-conferencing equipment ready, Kabaji?"

"_Usu_."

"Then let's go."


	10. Beyond: A Tribute TIMELINE

**© 2008 Gold**

**Title**: Beyond: A Tribute

**Author: **Gold  
**Rating:** K+

**TIMELINE**

**Disclaimer: **_Prince of Tennis _is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-san or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of _Prince of Tennis _. It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-san or aforesaid entities.

**Notes: **

This is just a brief timeline setting out what has happened so far, in chronological order. This is to help people get up to speed as to what's been happening. The dates and times may be a bit confusing because Cincinnati is behind Tokyo by thirteen hours.

* * *

**24 July 2010, Saturday**

_Tokyo_

– Momoshiro is last seen leaving his host family's house in Biei, Hokkaido

– Momoshiro's last telephone call is to his teacher in charge of the school camp.

* * *

**24 July 2010, Sunday**

_Cincinnati 11 am (Tokyo, midnight)_

- Sanada Genichirou advances to the quarter-finals of the Cincinnati Global Tennis Masters

* * *

**26 July 2010, Monday**

_**Tokyo**_

- Momoshiro's disappearance is briefly reported in a few morning dailies

_**Tokyo, 8 pm (Cincinnati, 7 am, same day)**_

- Tezuka becomes embroiled in a doping scandal

_**Tokyo, 8.30 pm (Cincinnati, 7.30 am, same day)**_

- The Seishun Gakuen (International) Tennis Fanclub, Tezuka Kunimitsu Supporters Club (TKSC) launches an online petition with the support of the Kaidoh Kaoru Supporters Club and Echizen Ryoma Fanclub

* * *

**27 July 2010, Tuesday**

_**Tokyo, 3 am (New York – 26 July 2010, 2pm)**_

- Atobe and Fuji have a long-distance telephone conversation

_**Cincinnati, 9 am (Tokyo, 10 p.m., same day)**_

- Tezuka holds his press conference

_**Cincinnati, 11 am (Tokyo, midnight, same day)**_

- Kevin Smith blurts out to Echizen Ryoma that Momoshiro is missing, somewhat exaggerating it by stating that he has been missing for a week

_**Cincinnati, 4.30 pm (Tokyo, 5.30am, 28 July 2010)**_

- Echizen Ryoma crashes out of the Cincinnati Global Tennis Masters

- Yukimura Seiichi advances to the quarter-finals of the Cincinnati Global Tennis Masters

_**Cincinnati, 7pm (Tokyo, 8am, 28 July 2010)**_

- Atobe gate-crashes Tezuka's apartment

_**Cincinnati, 8 pm (Tokyo, 9am, 28 July 2010)**_

- Yukimura slams a tennis ball into Kirihara Akaya's stomach. The force is not enough to seriously hurt Kirihara, but it is enough to make him hurt

* * *

**28 July 2010, Wednesday**

_**Tokyo, 10.04 am (Cincinnati, 9.04pm, 27 July 2010)**_

- Yanagi Renji hears someone call him _Sempai_ in a vague dream

_**Tokyo, 11.30 am (Cincinnati, 10 pm, 27 July 2010)**_

- Yanagi Renji wakes up, but there's no good coffee

_**Tokyo, midnight (Cincinnati, 11am)**_

- Yanagi reaches Inui Sadaharu's house on bike

* * *

**29 July 2010, Thursday**

_**Tokyo, 4 am (Cincinnati, 3 pm, 28 July 2010)**_

- Yukimura Seiichi collapses on the court, just before his match against Sanada Genichirou begins

_**Tokyo, 7am (Cincinnati, 6pm, 28 July 2010)**_

- AMI Group releases first press statement on Yukimura Seiichi

- Oshitari Yuushi calls Inui Sadaharu

_**Tokyo, 9 am (Cincinnati, 8 pm, 28 July 2010)**_

- AMI Group releases second press statement, informing press that there will be a full press conference within the next twenty-four hours

_**Tokyo, noon (Cincinnati, 11 pm, 28 July 2010)**_

- The boys gather at a café in Tokyo. From Rikkaidai, Hyoutei, Seigaku, Fudomine, St Rudolph's, Yamabuki...

_**Tokyo, 1 pm (Cincinnati, midnight, 29 July 2010)**_

- Kaidoh Kaoru is in the hospital. So are Atobe Keigo, Tezuka Kunimitsu and the rest, waiting for the doctors to deliver the results of the tests on Yukimura

_**Tokyo, 1.15 pm (Cincinnati, 00:15 am, 29 July 2010)**_

- A pow-wow in the sixth conference room in the Atobe summer cottage at Karuizawa

_**Tokyo, 1.30 p.m. (Cincinnati, 00:30 am, 29 July 2010)**_

- Atobe calls in to the sixth conference room in the Atobe summer cottage at Karuizawa


	11. Beyond A Tribute: Part 7

**© 2008 Gold**

**Title**: Beyond: A Tribute

**Part 7**: Twenty Hours

**Author: **Gold  
**Rating:** K+

**Disclaimer: **_Prince of Tennis _is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-san or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of _Prince of Tennis _. It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-san or aforesaid entities.

**Notes:**

Some of you might find this part a bit heavy-going and difficult to read, because it includes an analysis by Inui and Yanagi of the possible reasons behind Tezuka's surprise drug scandal and Yukimura's sudden collapse on the court. I have tried to make it as comprehensive and as logical as possible.

Of course Tezuka could never have taken drugs knowingly.

* * *

**Part Seven: Twenty Hours**

They had less than twenty hours left.

— Less than twenty hours before the disciplinary committee of the Association of Men's Tennis Professionals would gather to begin the first of several closed-door, preliminary enquiries, where they would listen as the laboratory evidence was presented and explained to them. They would examine reams of pages detailing every step of the process. They would listen, think and file away notes of evidence. Tezuka Kunimitsu's fate hung in the balance.

— Less than twenty hours before the searches for Momoshiro Takeshi would be called off completely. Search teams had already combed nearly a hundred and fifty square kilometres of the countryside at least twice over. Some of the Biei residents had even taken their dogs out as part of the voluntary search teams. But they had had no luck so far. Once the searches had officially been called off, Momoshiro would, quite simply, become the newest name on the ever-growing list of missing persons nation-wide.

— Less than twenty hours before the press conference, held by those whom the world knew as the Princes of Tennis — Atobe Keigo, Tezuka Kunimitsu, Yukimura Seiichi, Sanada Genichirou, Kaidoh Kaoru, Ibu Shinji, Echizen Ryoma and Kirihara Akaya. There would be questions from journalists who belonged to some one hundred and seventy different media organisations from around the world.

Tezuka Kunimitsu was embroiled in scandal. Echizen Ryoma had played the most disastrous game of his entire tennis career at once of the most prestigious events on the tour. Yukimura Seiichi lay, to all intents and purposes, immobile on a hospital bed, his condition unknown. Sanada Genichirou had gone berserk on the courts.

And together they had collectively broken from their national tennis association, grouping together under the banner and standard of one of their own, Atobe Keigo.

The Princes of Tennis owed answers to the world at large, who had watched them through the years, supported them and come to love them. What answers did they have for their families, friends, fans and tennis lovers around the world?

Twenty hours…

… to the end.

* * *

The sixth conference room in the Atobe summer cottage at Karuizawa was, by the normal standards of the Atobe family, tiny: it seated just ten people. It was decorated in classic Atobe style, that is, steeped in stifling opulence, although it was unusually modern. Every chair in the room was upholstered in the finest cream leather with gold piping, monogrammed on the arms and back in silver and lavender with the Atobe coat of arms (which had been designed nearly two decades ago by a very, _very _famous French fashion house) and ergonomically-designed to boot. The furniture was solid cherry wood and everything that could be gold-plated or gold-trimmed was duly plated or trimmed as such, from the door knobs to the handles of drawers, right down to the spider 'phone in the middle of the conference table. The marble floor was covered in a carpet so luxuriant and thick that your feet sank into it and even wobbled dangerously as you walked.

All this overweening luxury was a remarkable study in contrast with the handful of grim faces seated around the conference table in the centre of the room.

Inui Sadaharu and Yanagi Renji sat together near the head of the conference table, their heads barely an inch apart as they discussed something furiously in hushed undertones. Opposite them sat Oshitari Yuushi and Tachibana Kippei, on the other side of the conference table. Oshitari, languid as ever, listened with a faintly furrowed brow as Tachibana spoke in low tones. Tachibana's face was exceedingly serious; he wore the expression most generals preferred to reserve for occasions when they were required to go into decisive battle. The fifth – and last – person in the room was one Fuji Syuusuke. He sat quietly on the other side of Oshitari, apparently preoccupied with the New York Times (which he had filched from the main living room) crossword puzzle of the day. A sharper observer might have noticed, though, that Fuji was keeping a _very_ close eye and ear on the conversations going on around him.

"Inui." Fuji Syuusuke raised his voice suddenly, startling the other four in the room. "Can you repeat what you just said?"

Inui Sadaharu stiffened very, very slightly. He lifted his eyes with studied nonchalance to Fuji Syuusuke's pleasant, smiling face. "Ah, Fuji." Inui blinked once, very guilelessly. "Nothing very important."

Fuji continued to smile at Inui affably, twirling a pencil between the fingers of his right hand. "Ah. But I think I just heard you say that there is an off-chance that there is a link between Tezuka's matter and Yukimura-_san_'s collapse."

Oshitari and Tachibana's conversation immediately halted, as if by magic, and they both looked up.

Next to Inui, Yanagi Renji gave a brief shrug of his shoulders. "It is all based on suppositions, Fuji-_san_. We cannot confirm anything."

"Don't worry on my account," Fuji said, still smiling broadly. "_Do tell._"

There was a clear underlying edge of danger in that smooth, mild voice. Oshitari's mouth tilted briefly upwards at the corners and his eyes lit with amusement; Tachibana felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and goose bumps sweep over his skin.

Inui stiffened even further and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as if it had suddenly grown too hot for him. "This… doesn't involve any data. It's just a guess, Fuji." Inui actually looked vaguely ashamed of himself.

Yanagi stirred a little. "It's a theory," he corrected. "Like all theories, what we lack is empirical data for support."

"…that's why it's just a _guess_," muttered Inui. "There's no proof."

Fuji arched an eyebrow. "I'm not interested in proof," he said mildly. "What I _am_ interested in is a link between Tezuka's matter and Yukimura's collapse. The Inui I know bases his theories on reasonable assumptions and available facts." Fuji gave Yanagi a winning smile. "Yanagi-_san_'s reputation also precedes him in this respect."

Inui adjusted his glasses. He eyed Fuji somewhat beadily and a little crossly. "Well, it started because Renji and I have been reading up a bit about jetoxil lately. You know," Inui made a vague gesture, "after what happened with Tezuka."

"I'm guessing," said Fuji, eyeing Inui sharply, "that you're about to say that somehow JTX is the link between Tezuka's matter and Yukimura-_san_'s collapse."

"We're not _saying_ that," protested Inui immediately. "We're _guessing_ that."

"Theorizing," corrected Yanagi, with a slight hint of exasperation in his voice. "What you have said is correct, Fuji-_san_—and that possibility is exactly what you overheard Sadaharu and myself discussing at length."

Tachibana Kippei glanced from Inui to Yanagi to Fuji and felt his head beginning to throb slightly. Inui, Yanagi and Fuji obviously understood the subject of the conversation (and probably Oshitari did too, since he continued to wear this odd, faintly amused smile), but Tachibana saw neither rhyme nor reason for this odd conversation about an even more bizarre theory. Where was the logic in it? "Excuse me for interrupting. _How_ is JTX involved in Yukimura-_san_'s case…?"

"There is a possibility that JTX caused Seiichi's collapse." Yanagi cleared his throat. "Side effects of JTX, especially when taken regularly over an extended period, include flu-like symptoms, high blood pressure, blood thickening, blood clotting and even epileptic fits. Of course, the chance of this happening is very, _very_ rare."

"That still does not sound right," said Tachibana slowly, turning the words over in his mind. "The only way this could have happened is if Yukimura had taken JTX—" Tachibana's voice broke off abruptly, comprehension dawning on him. His eyes moved swiftly from Inui to Yanagi. "You said that Tezuka's situation and Yukimura's collapse are linked by JTX. _Are you telling me that they both used –"_

"Not knowingly," muttered Inui Sadaharu.

Tachibana narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, _not knowingly_?"

Yanagi leaned back in is chair. "What if they took it _unknowingly_?" He tapped his pencil against the tabletop. "Quite a coincidence, isn't it, that Tezuka-_san_ tests positive for JTX in both samples taken from him, and that this happens to be a drug with a side effect that can cause, say, blood clotting. That can lead to a sudden seizure or even cardiac arrest, you know. I think it is not unlikely that Seiichi may have suffered one or the other, albeit in a mild form."

Tachibana pinched the bridge of his nose. "This… is quite a leap of imagination, to link the two together. There is… no proof. Is there any way…?"

"As I've said, it's only a guess," answered Inui with a sigh, his shoulders slumped. "So there has never been any proof. Renji and I guessed that there was a link only because it just happens, coincidentally, that we read about the side effects of JTX."

Yanagi took up the thread of the conversation. "Since this was merely a _theory_, we had to eliminate other possibilities in order to establish that our theory is valid. We decided to analyse both Tezuka's and Seiichi's cases separately. We realised that by studying both Tezuka's and Seiichi's situations separately, if we could find identical causes for both situations, then we could reasonably conclude that there is a link between the two cases.

"Let us now analyse Tezuka's situation. We eliminated the possibilities that his samples were contaminated or inappropriately handled. That left only two possibilities: either he took JTX deliberately or he took it unknowingly. We eliminated the possibility that he deliberately took JTX. Therefore, he must have taken it unknowingly. There are only very specific circumstances under which a sportsperson mistakenly consumes a controlled substance that is banned."

Inui raised a finger. "Option one: medicine. When sportspersons fall ill, they have to take medicine. Sometimes these medicines may contain banned substances. Cold medicines and cough mixtures are frequently blamed for such mishaps." He held up a second finger. "Option two: diet. Sometimes the banned substances are slipped into the diet of the sportsperson, either by way of a drink or through supposed vitamin supplements or through injections, all as part of the strict dietary regimen." Inui paused and then shrugged his shoulders. "Well, those are the two most likely scenarios."

"But JTX does not seem to be something contained in medication to cure the common cold or the 'flu…" observed Fuji almost cheerfully.

"It isn't," agreed Yanagi dryly.

Tachibana added his voice once again to the discussion. "That means the first option has to be ruled out. But that only leaves the second option."

Inui nodded his head slowly. "Renji and I came to the same conclusion." Inui took a deep breath. "It would have to be someone on the management team—a manager, a coach, a nutritionist or a doctor. Someone who has enough control and enough opportunity."

Yanagi let his fingers splay across the table. "But before we speculate as to _who_ or _why_, let's examine Seiichi's case.

"Seiichi had the Guillain-Barre Syndrome six years ago, but has completely recovered from it. He has recently shown some fatigue during his matches, but it is reasonable to conclude that this appears to be due to a recent bout of 'flu. From our data, we are of the opinion that there has been no relapse of the Guillain-Barre Syndrome. There must therefore be another reason for his collapse before his match." Yanagi breathed deeply. "We have re-watched the playback and examined the press statement released by Atobe's people. We deduce that it is highly likely that Seiichi's condition is somewhat serious. He is likely to be lucid and awake, but in questionable physical condition."

Inui folded his hands. "We now look at the possible reasons that would match the seriousness of Yukimura's condition both before and after the collapse.

"Option one: Yukimura has been overtired or overworked, or both. However, Yukimura would not allow himself to be overtired or overworked. There is absolutely no reason he would place additional strain on his body just for the Cincinnati Masters title. Yukimura is someone who is very, very careful of his health and very conscious of his responsibility as an athlete to maintain his body in perfect health and top condition. Even if he did overtire himself—over-exertion by itself does not cause athletes to collapse and pass out just like that, especially not someone like Yukimura, who is extremely careful with his health. Thus we eliminated this possibility.

"Option two: the doctors did _not_ give Yukimura a clean bill of health. Perhaps he has had another bout of 'flu but nevertheless decided to play in the tournament. It is well-known that strenuous exercise during a bout of 'flu puts tremendous strain on the heart muscle and can cause fatal heart attacks. In our opinion, the probability of Yukimura risking 'flu and a heart attack is close to nil." Inui smiled humourlessly. "Yukimura would die without tennis, but he would not die for tennis. Therefore we eliminated this possibility.

"Option three: possibly a combination of over-exertion and a bout of 'flu led to Yukimura's collapse. This is a very strong possibility, although Yukimura is, as we have said, not the type to go ahead and play in a tournament if it would kill him. We did _NOT_ eliminate this possibility. We calculated a 46.8 percent likelihood that this is the reason behind his collapse."

Yanagi was staring hard at the table now. "We would have left it at that, if not for the fact that JTX had turned up in Tezuka's case. The side effects of JTX could have caused Seiichi's collapse." He took a deep breath and lifted his eyes to the faces of the others in the room. "I do not believe in coincidences. _This_ is the link between Tezuka's case and Seiichi's collapse. JTX."

There was silence in the room as they digested what had been said.

Tachibana broke the silence first. "If you are right, then going forward…?"

Inui pursed his lips. "If it really is JTX—then it could only be through their diet. It is reasonable to conclude that there has been a pattern of JTX being slipped into their diet before and that both Seiichi and Tezuka are part of that pattern. But all we have now is a theory based on many assumptions."

Yanagi's mouth was tight. "Even if it turns out that JTX did not cause Seiichi's collapse, I suspect we may find that there is still a pattern of JTX having been surreptitiously slipped into their diet. I frankly cannot see any other reason for Tezuka's positive tests for JTX. We want to know _who _did it and _why_."

There was silence in the room.

"What," Fuji asked simply, breaking the silence, "do we need to prove that you are correct?"

"Data," said Inui immediately.

"A lot of data," supplemented Yanagi. "Sadaharu and I were discussing this just now. We want to know _who _did it and _why_. We need test results, diet lists, records—a lot of things. We need people to answer our questions, or to get the information we want. For this, we would need someone who has the resources and the connections. Someone who has enough power to get things done."

Oshitari, who had remained silent until then, stirred finally. "So that's why you wanted to talk to Atobe."

"Time is of the essence." Inui lifted his chin slightly, looking straight at Oshitari. "We need a fighting chance—"

"I want to get whoever did this to Seiichi," said Yanagi grimly.

"_Well_."

The new voice in the room belonged to none of the five persons already seated within. It boomed from the speakers by the side of the large, blank, 42-inch LCD TV screen mounted into the wall at the end of the sixth conference room. Hitherto it had maintained a monochrome bright blue colour, but now it suddenly flickered into life as Atobe Keigo's face, greatly magnified, appeared on the huge screen. How Atobe managed to look down his nose at all of them from that ridiculously gigantic screen was beyond them – but being Atobe, he managed it rather well.

"Tachibana." Atobe inclined his head. "You are here. Fuji. Inui. Yanagi. Yuushi."

A lesser person might have balked at Atobe's arrogant manner, or even resented it, but they knew Atobe of old. It was Atobe's way of greeting them—in fact, one might almost call it affectionate.

There were two others sharing screen time with Atobe. Each had just half their faces showing, but it was enough to tell who they were.

Fuji's face showed surprise. "… Tezuka…? Kaidoh?"

Both Tezuka and Kaidoh said nothing; the former nodded and the latter ducked his head quickly in a modest bow, his cheeks colouring slightly.

"Atobe." Oshitari's chair swivelled around so that he now faced Atobe head-on. "Inui and Yanagi have a rather interesting theory that I think we should consider."

"Hn." Atobe fixed a very hard stare on Oshitari. "I see." He let his eyes run around the present company. Then he allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. "Now that we are all gathered," he announced, "let us begin. You might not know this, but…" He paused, arching an eyebrow for dramatic effect. "…we have less than twenty hours left."


	12. Beyond: A Tribute Part 8

**© 2009 Gold**

**Title**: Beyond: A Tribute

**Part 8**: The Wheels Begin To Turn

**Author: **Gold  
**Rating:** K+

**Disclaimer: **_Prince of Tennis _is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-san or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of _Prince of Tennis _. It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-san or aforesaid entities.

**Notes:** The U.S.A. Academy of Tennis is a fictional creation of my overactive imagination.

* * *

**Part Eight: The Wheels Begin To Turn**

Within Japan's tennis circles, some folks reckoned that Ryuzaki Sumire was the grand old dame of Japanese tennis. Even the elite old men who ran Japan's top tennis management like their own old boys' club had to grudgingly acknowledge her as Someone. In terms of credentials, she had nearly thirty years' worth of coaching and playing tennis competitively under her belt. In terms of stature, she had always been amongst the handful of female pioneers who fought against the constrictions of tradition and history, just to earn the right to stand there amongst men and to play the game of tennis. She could have run for any number of positions in the executive council of the National Tennis Association of Japan (NTAJ). But for all her burnished credentials, Ryuzaki Sumire had been _persona non grata_ with the NTAJ top brass for a very long time.

More than twenty years ago, Ryuzaki Sumire had stormed into the office of the then-president of the NTAJ and raised hell, because the NTAJ had decided to award its annual scholarship to the U.S.A. Academy of Tennis (Florida campus) to the eighteen-year-old son of the NTAJ vice-president. Witnesses reported that Ryuzaki's voice could be heard all the way down the corridor outside the president's office and all across the office floor. People actually poked their heads out of the conference rooms and office cubicles to find out what was going on, and they managed to hear a _lot_. Ryuzaki-_sensei_ was furious: her student, fifteen-year-old Echizen Nanjirou, far outstripped the field of shortlisted candidates in every way. At fifteen, he had already defeated – repeatedly, mind you – the top players in the three age groups above him. There was no denying his genius. At fifteen, Japan was already too small to hold someone of his calibre. Yet he had been passed over, because _his_ father wasn't the vice-president of the NTAJ!

Normally, it would have been easy for the NTAJ to sweep this sort of thing under the carpet. Ryuzaki Sumire was very small fry and Echizen Nanjirou was a nobody, a tennis genius, maybe, but still only a very small boy. It just so happened, though, that on that very day, at the very same time that Ryuzaki and the NTAJ president were shouting angrily at each other, a couple of journalists who were waiting to interview the NTAJ president pricked up their ears.

A few days later, the NTAJ was somewhat stunned to discover that the sports journalists who had interviewed the NTAJ president had, instead of the standard glowing articles, written critical pieces about how the NTAJ scholarship to the U.S.A. Academy of Tennis (Florida campus) had been awarded—not to the most meritorious of the candidates, but to someone whose father was a high-ranking NTAJ executive. There was a fair amount of interest in this, especially amongst Japan's tennis community. Echizen Nanjirou's name was one that many within the tennis community had already heard of; some said that he was Japan's answer to John McEnroe or Jimmy Connors (this was during the eighties). In the face of rising disapproval, and a realisation that this might not be so easily hushed up, the NTAJ executive body hastily moved to quell the furore by creating an additional scholarship, duly awarded to Echizen Nanjirou.

In time, Echizen Nanjirou would go on to become Japan's most famous tennis star, fêted wherever he went. But of course, nobody knew _that_ then, and it was Echizen Nanjirou's teacher, Ryuzaki Sumire, who gained a reputation within the NTAJ as a troublemaker to be avoided at all costs.

For the next several years, Ryuzaki Sumire stayed as far away as possible from the NTAJ, except for the examination she underwent dutifully every two years to renew her coaching licence. The NTAJ, too, kept their distance from her. Even after Echizen Nanjirou gained fame and notoriety, the NTAJ and Ryuzaki maintained their relationship – or lack thereof – under a sort of armed neutrality.

So Ryuzaki had never thought that one day, she would have to darken the doors of the NTAJ headquarters once again – and this time, for the sake of yet another student of hers.

The NTAJ head office was spread over five floors of a modern office tower in Akasaka, Tokyo.

At twenty minutes to two on a hot Thursday afternoon, Ryuzaki Sumire stepped out of the lift on the eleventh floor, which was where the office of the president of the NTAJ, Watanabe Seiji, was located.

Ryuzaki Sumire was briefly acquainted with Watanabe, in a manner of speaking. More than twenty years ago, his father had been the vice-president of the NTAJ, and the scholarship that should have been given to Echizen Nanjirou had been awarded to him. He had become the NTAJ president less than five years ago, the youngest ever NTAJ president, in a hard-fought election in which he defeated the powerful NTAJ treasurer. Sasabe Tenzo, a wealthy businessman, was the treasurer of the NTAJ, a post which he had held for nearly fifteen years. Although Sasabe retained his position as treasurer, he kept his eye on the president's seat and it was common knowledge that the NTAJ executive council was split into two different factions: the president's faction and the treasurer's faction. Each faction maintained various spheres of influence within the NTAJ, and spent all their time, money and efforts devoted to blocking each other's initiatives. It was a classic study in Japanese politics.

Ryuzaki Sumire swiftly sized up the very pretty young woman blinking in a puzzled but welcoming fashion at her from behind the reception counter in the beautifully-designed foyer of the eleventh-floor offices of the NTAJ. On being told that Ryuzaki had no appointment, but nevertheless wished to see the NTAJ president, the young woman looked taken aback.

"Ma'am," said the young receptionist, apologetically, "I'm so sorry, but you can't see the president unless you have an appointment."

Ryuzaki smiled at her in a harmless-grandmother fashion. "Oh, is that so? I am _so_ sorry for having disturbed you."

"Oh, not at all," replied the young woman, bowing quickly and respectfully. "Would you like to leave your name and contact number? I can pass it to the president's secretary."

Ryuzaki continued beaming benignly. "Oh, no, no, no, no… it's not necessary at all. Ah, I'll just leave now." She cocked her head. "By the way, is there a ladies' room that I can use on this floor?"

Of course there was. The pretty receptionist was happy to be helpful and pointed the way to Ryuzaki, who thanked her heartily.

The old washroom trick always worked. Ryuzaki smiled grimly to herself as she headed down the corridor, towards the ladies' room. Instead of taking the first turn right, as instructed by the receptionist, Ryuzaki headed straight down the corridor and took the second turn on the left instead, in the direction of the president's office. She had barely turned the corner when she heard a loud thud, as if someone had smashed a piece of furniture. Ryuzaki immediately picked up her pace, trotting quickly down the corridor in the direction of the noise.

"Ma'am, you are…?" A young woman half-rose from behind the desk just outside the door marked with a heavy wooden nameplate set with shining brass letters: _SEIJI WATANABE – PRESIDENT_. "Wait…ma'am!"

It was too late.

The door was not locked; Ryuzaki applied some force and turned the knob with a dexterous twist.

In the next moment, she had stepped in.

There were four men in the room.

Behind the desk, Watanabe Seiji stood, a handsome, worried-looking man in his late forties; he was leaning on his hands, which were pressed against the surface of his desk.

Opposite Watanabe, his back to Ryuzaki and his face turned towards her in angry surprise at her appearance, was a ruddy-faced man, in his fifties; the sole distinctive feature on his face was a pair of very small, very sharp eyes. He was unknown to Ryuzaki.

Seated in the armchairs in the room, on opposite ends, were two other men.

One was Sasabe Tenzo, square-shouldered, dark-suited and wearing tinted-glasses that hid his eyes; he sat facing the door, his mouth set into an ugly sneer.

The other was Sasaki Tarou, who held no official position in the NTAJ.

The unknown man was the first to react. He glared furiously at Ryuzaki. "Who are _you_? What are you doing here? This is the president's office! Get out!"

Ryuzaki advanced forward, meeting his rude stare with one of her own. "My name," she said evenly, "is Ryuzaki Sumire."

She watched with satisfaction as he seemed to falter a little. She might have been _persona non grata_ to the NTAJ, but there were very few within the tennis community who were unaware of her—pioneer female coach, troublemaker, and one-time coach to some of the brightest stars in the tennis firmament both past and present. Echizen Nanjirou's fame had gained her a certain measure of respect within Japan's tennis community in generations past; the rise of Tezuka Kunimitsu and Echizen Ryoma had done the same for the present generation. "I am here to see President Watanabe."

Watanabe Seiji straightened up. "Ryuzaki-_san_. Please wait outside for a little while. We are currently having a closed-door meeting."

"I think not," Ryuzaki told him, firmly. "I have had a very difficult time reaching anybody in the NTAJ who is willing to answer my questions—and I'm sure you know why I'm here, President Watanabe."

From the armchair, Sasabe Tenzo gave a disparaging laugh. "Ryuzaki-_san_. I understand you must be here out of concern for your former student—Tezuka Kunimitsu, correct? But you have to understand—" He shrugged his shoulders. "With the leadership of the NTAJ under Watanabe, it will never—"

Ryuzaki interrupted him, a hard edge in her voice. "Sasabe-_san_, I have no interest in your ambitions."

She might as well have slapped him in the face. Sasabe Tenzo flushed with anger and opened his mouth, but Ryuzaki barrelled on.

"I don't need to remind you that it is _your_ management agency, Sasabe Tenzo, that these boys signed up with." Ryuzaki's voice was cold. "Yet this very same agency has failed to protect the players under its charge!"

Two days ago, she had nearly gone up in smoke after seeing Tezuka Kunimitsu's hastily-called press conference televised on the national news network. Tezuka's display was impeccable, as were his careful, honest answers to the questions hurled his way. What made Ryuzaki absolutely furious was the fact that she saw, flanking Tezuka, every single Japanese player who was currently playing on the international courts—_and not a single official from the management agency or from the National Tennis Association of Japan_.

"_Not a_ _single staff member_, Sasabe Tenzo." Ryuzaki glared at him, unable to keep the rage out of her voice. "There is absolutely _no_ excuse for this complete failure. Your management agency let a player face the international press _alone_! As a management agency, your first concern is the players and their welfare. _This_ is the role of a manager. If the management agency cannot organise itself to provide support for a player during an emergency situation like this, then what is the management agency for? It might as well not be there at all!"

Sasabe Tenzo stood up. He took off his tinted sunglasses angrily. "_My_ management agency did its best!" he spat. "If Tezuka Kunimitsu was foolish enough to take drugs, then there is nothing that can save him! You think he is innocent, Ryuzaki? _Every single test_ came back positive—the laboratories don't make a mistake in something like this! No doubt he wanted to be world champion pretty fast—well, this is where it gets him!"

There was a dead silence.

"Well, if you believe _that_," Ryuzaki said disgustedly, "then there is no more to be said. It is no wonder that your agency was not able to help—not when they don't even believe in the players they are supposed to manage. Based on that alone, Sasabe, I can tell you this—you are not fit to hold _any_ office in this organisation, let alone the office of president."

Sasabe was purple with rage. "I will _not_ stay here to be insulted by you!" he shouted. He stalked towards the door and flung it open. Then he looked over his shoulder. "Mark my words, Watanabe, I _will_ be president!"

Ryuzaki raised her voice to a near shout. "Then _you _mark _my_ words, Sasabe Tenzo: run for president, and I will run, too—against _you_! And we will see whether a man who does not believe in Japan's tennis players and who does not support them can become the president of the National Tennis Association of Japan!"

There was a brief moment of silence as the door slammed shut behind Sasabe.

President Watanabe looked around the room. "Ryuzaki-_san_—" he began.

"Don't _you_ start with me," snapped Ryuzaki. "There was _no one_ from the NTAJ there, at Tezuka's press conference. Is it so difficult to have someone there? Those boys are out there alone! When they turned pro, the NTAJ pledged its support to them. This is the role of the NTAJ, as is the role of any national tennis federation in any country. It promotes tennis as a sport nationwide, nurtures talent, guides them to the world stage if necessary—and in this case, President Watanabe, the NTAJ _promised_ that they would provide all the support and assistance to the players that was within its power. Where was this support and assistance when Tezuka Kunimitsu needed it the most?"

President Watanabe gestured unhappily. "Ryuzaki-_san_, you must understand the NTAJ's position. We cannot take sides when the matter is something as serious as this. It is a strict liability offence under ATMP rules, which means that once the test is positive, regardless of whether the player is at fault for it or not, he must be immediately suspended, pending a hearing by the ATMP. The test results were incontrovertible, Ryuzaki. All three samples were positive. We must also answer, as a national tennis federation, to the ATMP and to tennis fans."

Ryuzaki snorted. "You might as well tell me that you and Sasabe are on the same page for once. This is _not_ a matter of taking sides, President Watanabe. I am not an old fool." She folded her arms. "There are two principles here. First, Tezuka is innocent until proven guilty. _Always_, President Watanabe, even if the test is positive, and even if it is a case of strict liability." She pursed her lips. "Second, support from the NTAJ does not involve officials going around declaring their belief in Tezuka's innocence. All it requires is for someone, _anyone_ at all, from the NTAJ, to be there, with him, see what he needs and make appropriate arrangements."

The room was quiet.

Ryuzaki arched an eyebrow. "Well, now, I've said what I wanted to say. President Watanabe, it's time you answered some of _my_ questions. What happened? Why didn't the NTAJ take charge, when the management failed? Don't you have someone there?"

President Watanabe blinked. "We do—we _did_," he said slowly. "But things were happening too fast, Ryuzaki." He hesitated briefly. "This is Ito Matsuki." He indicated the stout, ruddy-faced man. "He is our NTAJ representative. He was there, in America, until this morning, when his plane landed."

Ito Matsuki bowed jerkily. "Ryuzaki-_san_."

Ryuzaki returned his bow. "Ito-_san_." She eyed him. "Maybe you can tell me what is going on—and why you're here, instead of _there_."

Ito Matsuki glanced at President Watanabe, who nodded slightly.

"I am _not_ the person you should be talking to, Ryuzaki-_san_." Ito sounded angry. "You should be talking to that so-called management team. I am attached there, as the NTAJ representative, but those people work for Sasabe Tenzo. They never let me know anything. I am always the last to know." He paused and looked at Ryuzaki, scowling. "They are all your students?"

"… once. Not all of them are my students. Just a few. And it was a long time ago," Ryuzaki replied, a little warily. "A _very_ long time ago," she added emphatically.

Ito Matsuki stared hard at her. "Well, Kaidoh Kaoru and Tezuka Kunimitsu are polite. They keep me updated. If they are your students, you taught them well. Can't say the same for the rest."

"…"

Ito pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am the only one from the NTAJ there. We pledged to give them support, but the management team always blocks me, always stops me from knowing things. When I complain, Sasabe says I'm picking a fight. Me, pick a fight! I have more important things to do with my time!" He gestured furiously. "I had to learn from the television, the radio and the newspapers about Tezuka Kunimitsu's tests, you know? Nobody told me anything! Then when I went to find the management team, they wouldn't tell me anything! That is normal behaviour, but I saw also that they wouldn't _do_ anything! You know what they said? No instructions. They said that they had no instructions. Pah!"

Ryuzaki narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean, no instructions?"

"They take instructions from Sasabe probably," said Ito impatiently. "It's _his_ management agency. But how would I know? I don't work for _him_. Maybe this is so major that they have to call him and ask him how to handle matters. Anyway, you heard him just now. He doesn't care at all! That's his attitude!"

Ryuzaki tightened her grip on her temper. "You're telling me that internal politics of the NTAJ has a hand in all this?"

Ito rolled his eyes in disgust. "Everybody knows, Ryuzaki-_san_. Sasabe spends his time creating fights with President Watanabe." He thumped his chest with the flat of his palm. "I'm on nobody's side here. I agreed to be the NTAJ representative, because I thought I could contribute. But Sasabe doesn't like me, because President Watanabe appointed me as the NTAJ representative. He's a parochial, short-sighted bastard, that one. If he runs for president, Ryuzaki, you'd better keep your promise and take him down."

Ryuzaki's mouth twitched slightly.

"It's a circus out there," Ito went on, his forehead wrinkling. "I tried to talk to the coaches, to the nutritionists, to the medical team to find out what was going on… The coaches and the nutritionists, I can understand. The management agency arranged for them to be hired. They're not bad people, but they don't dare to talk without the management's say-so. The coaches say they just coach, the nutritionists say they just draw up the meals and monitor the situation. They say they don't know anything. The medical team is our own, the NTAJ, but they don't work properly either. One of them is Sasabe's brother." Ito's mouth twisted into a grimace. "One of President Watanabe's ideas. Trying to defuse tension by making people from both factions work together."

President Watanabe had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.

"Didn't work," Ito continued, with blatant disregard for the NTAJ president's feelings. "Very useless doctor. No idea how he earned his medical degree—definitely not from Japan. Maybe he bought it in another country. Thick as thieves with Sasabe's man – _you_ know him, President Watanabe. Nishimura, the one with the ugly nose, who keeps flying in and out, pretending to manage the tennis players. There was one nutritionist I remember—new girl, very pretty. I think they hired her because of her looks. Actually, I think they hired _all_ the nutritionists for their looks. Some of these nutritionists don't know the difference between Vitamin B complex and Vitamin E complex—"

"You're going off-tangent here," Ryuzaki pointed out drily.

Ito blinked. "Oh. Yes. Anyway, with useless people like that, you can forget about them being any use if you want to find out anything. The other doctors and the medical assistants just concentrate on their work. They're good for diagnosing illnesses, but that's about it. They shut their ears to everything else."

Ryuzaki shook her head grimly. "How long has this been going on? Why wasn't anything done about it?"

Ito sniffed. "I'm the third NTAJ representative in the last three years. I'm neutral – I refuse to get involved in their stupid infighting. That's why President Watanabe picked me – he tried to change things. My predecessors lasted less than half a year each." He added, "And if we don't do something about this soon – you're going to have to find a _fourth_ NTAJ representative." He squared his shoulders. "Now, I took the first flight I could find to get back here, to tell President Watanabe everything I know about this."

President Watanabe frowned. "Please stay on, Ito. I know it has been frustrating, because of Sasabe-_san_'s tactics, but you have been a good representative and we need you there to keep him from controlling the whole situation. _I _need you there."

Ito waved his hands dismissively. "No need. There's no point my staying there." He nodded his head towards the fourth person in the room, who had been silent thus far. "_His_ student – this boy called Atobe Keigo – just took charge and threw us all out. Rich, impudent brat, but it looks like he's doing the right thing." He looked beadily at Sakaki Tarou and Ryuzaki Sumire. "What have you been teaching your students?"

Ryuzaki glanced at Sakaki Tarou. She had not forgotten his presence in the room, but it had been secondary to what she was after.

Sakaki, naturally, did not deign to reply.

Ito scowled. "Well, anyway, I'm very happy with this Atobe Keigo. He can go and try to fix the mess—it's _his_ mess now, and I wish him joy of it."

Ryuzaki's mouth twitched again. "Well, he's _the_ Atobe son, you know, and he does have a reputation for getting his way." _And for getting things done._

Ito cocked an eye at her. "That one, eh? I thought it might be—certainly he behaved like an Atobe. Well, I don't care who he is, as long as he can make Sasabe eat—"

"Yes, thank you, Ito," President Watanabe interrupted swiftly, cutting him off. "That will be all." His shoulders rose and sank briefly in a silent sigh. "What I'm more concerned with is that we seem to be cut off from the players in America. This is very worrying, particularly because of the new reports that Yukimura Seiichi is ill."

Ito snorted irritably. "I've already told you, there's no use my going back." He shot a hard glance at Sasaki Tarou.

Sasaki Tarou ignored the other man and got to his feet. He limped over to President Watanabe and placed a soft leather suitcase on the president's desk. Then, without saying a word, he returned to his armchair.

Ryuzaki watched curiously as President Watanabe opened the soft leather briefcase and pulled out two plain grey files. He flipped open the cover of the first file and scanned the contents.

Then he looked up, and he and Sasaki Tarou exchanged a long, meaningful look.

"What's that you have?" Ito asked impatiently.

President Watanabe looked thoughtfully at the file. "I'm not sure," he said carefully. "Certainly it does not have anything to do with how I can contact the players in America. But… it might be useful."

Sasaki spoke shortly. "Back cover of the second file."

President Watanabe did as he said, but as he opened the back of the second file, a small slip of paper fluttered out. The NTAJ president made a grab at it, but the resulting air current he caused made the paper float even further out—and it landed next to Ito's left shoe.

Ito immediately snatched it up. "What's this – Wakana Keisuke, Certified Public Accountant…?"

President Watanabe calmly extricated the piece of paper from Ito. "An old classmate of ours."

_Ours_? Ryuzaki raised her eyebrows and turned to look at Sasaki. Watanabe and Sasaki had been _classmates_ once…?

President Watanabe's mouth turned up slightly at the corners. "This may be just what we need."

Sakaki remained enigmatically silent.

Ryuzaki shifted her attention back to the NTAJ president. "President Watanabe."

He sighed. "Yes, Ryuzaki-_san_. Ito, go back to America and make contact with the players—"

Sakaki's voice cut in. "That will not be necessary any longer, Watanabe."

The NTAJ president lifted an eyebrow. "And why? We are still the NTAJ," he said with dignity.

Sakaki replied simply, "When it is time, someone will contact you. Don't spoil their work there. Concentrate on _that_." He lifted his cane and indicated the grey folders. Then he glanced at Ryuzaki. "Ryuzaki-_sensei_. May I ask you to walk out with me?"

Ryuzaki Sumire inclined her head. "You may."

So Sasaki Tarou wanted to talk. Very good. It was time, Ryuzaki reflected, that they had a nice little chat. She had _lots_ of questions for him.


	13. Beyond: A Tribute Part 9I

© 2009 Gold

**Title**: Beyond: A Tribute

Part 9: The Inconvenient Truth I

**Author: **Gold  
**Rating:** K+

**Disclaimer: **_Prince of Tennis _is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-san or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of _Prince of Tennis _. It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-san or aforesaid entities.

* * *

** Part Nine: The Inconvenient Truth I**

Yukimura Seiichi was sitting up weakly in bed, his back propped up by several huge bolsters and plump pillows. He looked pale and tired, and a slender tube was taped to the back of his left hand, protruding from it and connected to the drip by the side of his bed. A nurse sat discreetly by his bed.

Sanada Genichirou was in a distant corner of the hospital suite, leaning back against the wall. His head was lowered so that his eyes were hidden from view by the dark fringe of his hair.

Kirihara Akaya sat gingerly at the foot of Yukimura's hospital bed, more _off_ the bed than _on_ it. He plucked nervously at the bedspread and tried to make himself smaller and less noticeable.

"Akaya, how did you get that… your face?" Yukimura tilted his head curiously and then blinked, the corners of his mouth tightening very slightly as the room began to sway slightly.

"Um," mumbled Kirihara Akaya, putting a hand up to gingerly touch his swollen cheek. It hurt. His only consolation was that Echizen Ryoma was at least in as much pain. But he had to change the subject. "_Buchou_… how are you feeling?"

Yukimura opened his mouth and then shut it tightly, his eyes fluttering close as he fought a sudden wave of dizziness.

"_Buchou_…?"

"Quiet, Akaya," ordered Sanada from his corner, without looking up.

Kirihara subsided immediately and turned his attention back to the bedspread.

The nurse reached over and carefully shifted the pillows, allowing Yukimura to sink back against them.

Someone knocked on the doors.

The nurse lifted her head. "Come in," she called softly.

The doors swung open.

Atobe Keigo stepped into the room, followed by Tezuka Kunimitsu and Kabaji Munehiro.

Atobe swept a glance around the room and his eyes landed on Kirihara. "Kirihara. There is a long-distance call for you. Yanagi Renji is waiting to speak to you."

Kirihara almost fell off the bed. He wailed: "But I _haven't_ done anything—honestly! Except maybe fight with Echizen, but that's 'cause _he _started it! And—"

Atobe snapped his fingers.

Kabaji's arm shot out, holding out a mobile phone.

Kirihara scooted away from it, as if it were a snake or scorpion, or at any rate some kind of squirming reptile.

"Akaya, take it outside," Sanada said from his corner.

"_Hai_," mumbled Kirihara meekly.

The doors had hardly closed behind Kirihara before Atobe said, "Nurse Shimano, leave us. You may return in an hour."

The nurse rose to her feet and bowed. Then she exited the room.

"Kabaji."

"_Usu_."

"No one enters."

"_Usu_."

Kabaji left the room.

Yukimura stirred. "Atobe. Tezuka. What's going on…?"

"I spoke to Yanagi Renji and Inui Sadaharu," Atobe said shortly. "They have a curious theory which, while wildly imaginative, may have shed some light on matters."

Yukimura eyed Atobe coolly.

"The doctors ran similar medical tests on both you and Sanada," Atobe stated. "If this were any other situation, the results of these medical tests would be disclosed to you privately. No third party would be entitled to the doctors' report without your consent. At this point in time, I personally have not been informed by the doctors of the medical results although they are here under my orders." Atobe's fingers tapped against the arm of his chair. "But this is not an ordinary situation."

Yukimura eyed Atobe warily.

Atobe met Yukimura's gaze head-on. "It is not what happened six years ago, Yukimura," he said levelly. "That much, I have deduced, although the ultimate confirmation lies with the medical experts."

Yukimura's gaze shifted from Atobe to Tezuka. Then he spoke. "Why did the doctors run tests on Sanada?"

Atobe sniffed. "That, you can ask the doctors. Or you can interrogate Sanada at your pleasure. I'm sure that you'll find that entertaining. But do that later, please. As I was saying, this is not an ordinary situation. I have reason to believe that if Yanagi Renji and Inui Sadaharu are correct – regardless of whether their logic proves to be right or wrong – then the results of your medical tests may be irretrievably linked to Tezuka's recent test results."

Sanada started abruptly from his position, then seemed to change his mind, and sank back against the wall.

Yukimura's eyes narrowed and his lips parted, as if to say something, but he remained silent.

Atobe looked at them, his face stern. "Apart from myself and Tezuka, I am asking you to consent to allow Oshitari Yuushi, Tachibana Kippei, Yanagi Renji, Inui Sadaharu and Fuji Syuusuke to be likewise informed, and to allow us to discuss the matter together with you and the doctors, if the need arises." Atobe added, "And, of course, Kabaji."

There was a brief silence.

Yukimura's gaze grew distant. "There was a time once," he said, his voice sounding strangely as if it came from far, far away, "when we did not need to concern ourselves with these."

Atobe shrugged. "We were children then." But his voice had softened a little.

Yukimura's voice took on a hard edge. "I learnt a long time ago that adults would bend me to their will if they could. None of them would listen to me. I decided that I and I alone would get to decide what I wanted. The teams that I led never needed supervision, because _we_ knew, better than anyone, what _we_ wanted and how to achieve our goals. We did not need anyone to teach us. We did not need anyone, but ourselves." Yukimura lifted his eyes to Atobe's. "My mistake lies in having forgotten that lesson."

Atobe frowned.

Sanada turned his face away.

But Tezuka stepped forward.

"We were _all_ part of a team once." Tezuka's voice was strong. "And as a team, the sum of the whole is greater than its parts. That is what enabled us all to pull through and rely on just ourselves, as a cohesive unit, to achieve our greatest dreams when we were schoolboys." Tezuka paused briefly, letting his words sink in. "We have gone our different ways, which is the natural progression of life. Perhaps we have allowed our relentless pursuit of our dreams to put a distance between ourselves and the teams that we were once a part of. And because we are too young, we have left behind much more than we realise." He looked steadily at Yukimura and Sanada. "But in Tokyo, _now_, at this very moment, Yanagi Renji waits for you. He is not the only one. With him are Jackal Kuwahara, Marui Bunta and Niou Masaharu. I understand—" Tezuka glanced at Atobe – "that Yagyuu Hiroshi is in Europe, but he is on his way back to Tokyo, to meet once more with his old team-mates."

Yukimura blinked; Sanada looked up.

"There are many more back home, whose names you may recognise—Tachibana Kippei, Sengoku Kiyosumi, Saeki Kojirou, Fuji Yuuta…All of them have come, together with their old team-mates. And – my own old team, Seigaku… they, too, are there." Tezuka fell silent for a moment. "It is not something easily explained away, to come immediately when called upon, and to offer help when not asked for…It has been, for us all, many years."

"You forget, Tezuka, that all this is due to _ore-sama_," Atobe pointed out haughtily. "For it was I who directed Yuushi to contact Inui-_san_ and Yanagi-_san_, and to bring the rest together."

Tezuka politely ignored Atobe. "And we are also…the _Dream Team_."

_Dream Team_.

Those words had an unexpected effect. Yukimura's face glowed with unexpected brilliance. The hard lines of Sanada's face softened visibly, and even Atobe's eyes, for a moment, looked almost childlike.

Once, they had been Japan's Dream Team, handpicked as the finest players in their age group nationwide and, some said then, the best in the world. One by one, the strongest players in the age groups above them had fallen in stunning defeat, followed by the Dream Teams from other countries, including the traditional tennis powerhouses of America and Germany. But in their minds, it was not the recollections of past glories that were conjured up when someone mentioned the words Dream Team—it was, instead, the memories of playing for the exhilarating joy of the game, the sharp delight in the scaling of new and hitherto undiscovered heights in their potential, and the cherished camaraderie with team-mates that had been forged with the help of their beloved tennis.

"Atobe," Yukimura said finally, "what are you up to…?"

"That took you long enough," Atobe remarked coldly. His gaze flickered to Tezuka. "I think we all agree that recent events have highlighted the appalling lack of competence and best efforts in the current management."

Yukimura's mouth tightened and Sanada gave a slight nod.

"As you say, Yukimura," Atobe continued, "we know, better than anyone, what we want, and how to achieve our goals. To that end, _we_ should be our own management. But for that, we must have our own organisation in place. Furthermore, as players, you should not have to spend your time dealing with all the minor details. You will need people you can trust in these positions, which are now being occupied by current management.

"We will need to oust the current management. The difficulty is to put in place, very quickly, a similar structure of experienced and trusted personnel. There is, of course, a way to shortcut this.

"I will provide a number of experienced professionals, people who have years of experience in sports management, media relations corporate governance. Many are already within my employment. They will take posts in a new vehicle that I have incorporated specifically to be the new management company. Others who are part of this new team will be reputable professionals who have worked with tennis players for many, many years. They will provide guidance and training for the people who will be your direct managers. These direct managers will be your immediate support and they are the ones who will genuinesly look out for you." Atobe looked at Yukimura and Sanada. "Oshitari Yuushi, Tachibana Kippei, Inui Sadaharu, Fuji Syuusuke and Yanagi Renji have agreed to assist. They will be the heartbeat of the new management team. From there, it will be a matter of time before the others sign up—but it will not take long."

Yukimura arched an eyebrow. "This wasn't planned yesterday."

"Of course not," snorted Atobe. "Success depends on excellent strategy and ripe market conditions—not miracles."

Sanada cleared his throat. "Atobe, we did sign contracts with the management agency—and the coaches and nutritionists, and so on. I do not see how we can break these contracts without facing some form of legal liability. I am worried, also, about the fact that it was one of your companies that issued a press statement on our behalves—at that time, and even now, we have not yet officially broken with the management. In the context of our contracts with the management agency—will it hurt us?"

"I will deal with the contracts for your coaches and nutritionists, and the medical team from the NTAJ. You can tell me whether you want to keep them or break with them." Atobe's smile was like a shark's. "As for the management agency, you need have no fear. They can try what they will." Atobe chuckled unpleasantly.

"You know something that we don't," Yukimura said sharply. "Atobe, what is it?"

Atobe waved away Yukimura's question with an imperious movement. "All in good time. Now, we are back again at the issue of consent." He looked at Yukimura. "Well?"

Yukimura considered the matter for a moment. Finally he raised his head. "Atobe, let me hear Renji on this first. Then I will decide."

"No," Atobe said. "We have less time now. I feel the clock is ticking. If we do not move fast enough, then it will be ticking against us."

Yukimura's lips tightened.

"Atobe."

It was Sanada.

"Five minutes, Atobe. Let us speak to Renji." Sanada walked forward, stopping by Yukimura's bed. He turned to face Yukimura. "Renji is someone who would not do this lightly. If he thinks in a certain way, he must have very good reasons."

"When does Renji not have a good reason?" Yukimura asked, a slight edge of irritation in his tone. "Well, Atobe?"

Atobe did not look pleased. "Five minutes—with Yanagi, Oshitari, Inui and Fuji."

"Done," Sanada said, before Yukimura could reply.

Atobe immediately pulled out a mobile phone and spoke into it. "Kabaji. Get Ishida and Yamada in here now. They have two minutes to set up the connection to Karuizawa. Arrange with Dr. Aramaki and his team to be on standby outside."

* * *


	14. Beyond: A Tribute Part 9II

**© Gold**

**Title**: Beyond: A Tribute

**Part 9**: The Inconvenient Truth II

**Author: **Gold  
**Rating:** K+

**Disclaimer: **_Prince of Tennis _is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-san or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of _Prince of Tennis _. It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-san or aforesaid entities.

* * *

**Part 9: The Inconvenient Truth II**

Two nondescript-looking, dark-suited men, each carrying two mysterious black briefcases, entered the room. Each proceeded to open just one briefcase and pulled out laptops, a portable projector screen, some unidentifiable pieces of equipment, several remote controls and a number of extremely long wires. They moved with expert speed and alacrity, putting together the various equipment and wires, which they eventually connected to an interesting panel in the wall, with lots of little sockets, just below the large LCD TV that was set into one of the walls of the hospital suite.

Atobe lifted his mobile phone to his ear. "Yuushi. Is everything ready? Good. Ishida, Yamada: you may leave us now."

The two men in the dark suits rose to their feet and bowed. Then they exited the room.

"_Ore-sama_ will dial-in now. – Kabaji!"

"_Usu_."

The large LCD panel set into the wall of Yukimura's hospital suite flickered into life. It showed what appeared to be a very long, very polished table, and a number of faces seated around it. These faces were very familiar faces: Yanagi Renji, Inui Sadaharu, Oshitari Yuushi, Tachibana Kippei and Fuji Syuusuke.

Yanagi had a mobile phone plastered to his ear and he was absently massaging his temples wearily with his free hand. "That's good, Akaya. – I agree, Echizen-_san_ is probably very worried about the disappearance of Momoshiro-_san_. It's very good of you to notice that, Akaya. – No, there is no news of Momoshiro-san. No, I don't think he fell overboard. Yes, he may have been lost in the mountains. No, I don't think a mountain lion has eaten him. There are no mountain lions in Biei, Akaya, or anywhere in Japan." Yanagi's shoulders rose and sank in a silent sigh. "Yes, it's afternoon here. Yes, I know that it's morning over there. Go to bed, then. – Don't worry, I'm sure that Seiichi is recovering well now. – No, I don't think it will be as bad as it was six years ago. Uh-huh, uh-huh…"

Clearly, the long-distance telephone conversation with Kirihara was taking longer than expected.

Eventually, Yanagi hung up and looked up. "Sorry, everyone." He blinked. "Ah… Seiichi."

Yukimura's mouth quirked with amusement. "It's been a long time, Renji."

"Yes, it has. How are you feeling?" asked Yanagi, sounding suitably concerned.

"I am just a little tired," Yukimura told him reassuringly.

"I would imagine so," Yanagi said mildly. "Is Genichirou with you?"

"Yes, Genichirou is here."

Yanagi nodded thoughtfully. "That's good."

Atobe rapped out, "Sanada, Tezuka, come closer. Nobody over there can see you." He pointed to Yukimura's bed. "You can sit there."

Tezuka, after glancing at Sanada, calmly ignored Atobe's order and moved, instead, to stand behind the sofa that Atobe was seated upon.

Sanada took up a very uncomfortable spot against the wall next to Yukimura's bed.

Atobe pursed his lips. "Yuushi, can they be seen now?"

"Yes," Oshitari responded, unable to hide the amusement in his voice.

Atobe looked satisfied. "Well, then, let's not waste any more time."

Yukimura leaned forward slightly. "Renji, Atobe has asked us for our consent to release to you—and to him, Tezuka, Oshitari, Tachibana, Fuji and Inui—results of my medical tests and Genichirou's medical tests. Would you care to explain before I make any decision?" His voice was weak, but there was no mistaking the underlying steel in his tone.

Yanagi nodded calmly. "Of course, Seiichi. You remember Sadaharu, here."

Inui Sadaharu's glasses glinted. "Good morning, Yukimura-_san_."

"Sadaharu and I happened to be reading up a little on JTX and it occurred to us that theoretically, if JTX was in your body, it might have had certain side effects on you. It would certain explain the flu-like symptoms which you have been having, and your resulting collapse on court. A very nice little theory, if I may say so myself."

"… and?" prodded Yukimura.

"If Sadaharu and I are right, and JTX was, or is in your body – as well as Tezuka's – then someone must have introduced it into your diet. Unless you're telling me that you take JTX knowingly—"

"Renji!" roared Sanada.

Yanagi, unafraid, merely cast a cool glance at Sanada. "I hear that you have been allowing Seiichi to practise even though he has been sick."

Sanada looked away.

"Renji," Yukimura said, frowning a little. "I—"

"We will talk about this later," Yanagi informed him, in a tone that brooked no opposition.

"_Hn_." Atobe gave them his frostiest look. "Return to the question at hand, please."

Yanagi nodded politely. "Of course. Well, Seiichi, when we mooted our theory to Atobe, we were told that the doctors had run similar tests on both you and Genichirou. Atobe has not yet told us why."

Atobe said, sounding slightly miffed: "Ore-sama has not yet had the pleasure of asking the doctors yet."

Yanagi shrugged. "A good place to start, Seiichi and Genichirou, would be to let us know the results of your medical tests. If the doctors have not tested you for JTX, then I think we should speak to them and ask them to do so. If they have already tested you both for JTX, and if there _is_ a positive test, then I think that we can conclude in all likelihood that somehow, there is a pattern of use of JTX, inadvertently or otherwise, amongst the players. And of course I would have further questions for the doctors."

The clock ticked away in the ensuing silence.

Yanagi maintained his placid expression, gazing calmly at both Yukimura and Sanada.

Finally, Yukimura opened his mouth. "Very well."

Sanada straightened up in the next second. "I agree."

Yanagi inclined his head. "Thank you, Seiichi. Thank you, Genichirou."

"There's no time like the present." Atobe snapped his fingers. "Kabaji!"

"_Usu_."

"Tell the doctors to come in."

"_Usu_."

The doors to the hospital suite opened and three men in white doctor's coats entered.

"Come in, gentlemen." Atobe waved his hand imperiously in the direction of the three newcomers. "These are the doctors who are in charge of Yukimura. They are all my personal doctors. From left to right: Dr. Aramaki Shinichi, Dr. Sato Takahiro and Dr. Bert Schlessinger. Dr. Aramaki, you may begin."

"Good morning. I am Dr. Aramaki Shinichi. These are my colleagues, Dr. Sato Takahiro and Dr. Bert Schlessinger."

Dr. Aramaki Shinichi was a dignified man of well advanced years. He did not look as if he had a sense of humour, and his tones were crisp as he levelled a pointer at his two colleagues whilst introducing them. Evidently they were used to this; both Dr. Sato and Dr. Schlessinger wore cheerful grins. Dr. Schlessinger was non-Japanese, but he obviously understood the Japanese language.

"Now, Atobe-san has asked that we report the results of the medical tests, one in particular. Before we do any such thing—" Dr. Aramaki turned to face Yukimura and Sanada. "The correct practice is for me to release results only to you or your immediately family members. Now I am being asked to reveal these results to unrelated persons, namely those in this room and those on TV over there. So, consent, object or forever hold your peace."

Yukimura gave a slight nod of his head. "Go ahead. I'm beginning to be a little bit curious."

Dr. Aramaki looked at Sanada. "You."

Sanada bowed slightly. "Yes."

"Very good. Now we will begin. This is the screen which you will all pay attention to when we make our report." Dr. Aramaki waved the pointer in the direction of the hastily-set-up projection screen. "You will all keep quiet while we give the report. Question and answer session will be _after_ the lecture, _not_ during the lecture. Understood? Good. Dr. Schlessinger." He handed Dr. Schlessinger the pointer.

Dr. Schlessinger stepped forward and stood next to the projection screen. He opened his mouth and spoke in perfect Japanese, with just the faintest hint of an accent. "Well, I've been told to sort of introduce what we did, and give some background in a way that laymen can understand. I will begin with the easy part. Here are the names of the subjects on whom we conducted medical tests." He tapped the projection screen with the pointer.

_Subject Alpha: Yukimura Seiichi._

_Subject Beta: Sanada Genichirou._

"I'm sure you're all wondering why we tested two subjects, instead of just Yukimura-_san_." Dr. Schlessinger smiled amiably at them. "Let's just finish the introduction first. Our normal procedure is to begin with the usual basic tests. Pulse, blood pressure, temperature, blood test, urine test and so on. Very standard stuff."

Dr. Schlessinger tapped the projection screen with the pointer. "The results of all these basic tests are data that can tell us certain things. The example you're all probably most familiar with would be an unusually high level of glucose in the urine, which is a pretty good indicator that the subject may want to check if he or she is diabetic."

Dr. Sato chimed in, "Of course, we can also test for something specific, meaning that we are looking for something that we have identified. For example, by testing for a specific indicator in the blood sample, we can discover whether the subject is suffering from a particular type of dengue fever. Another example would be a test for a specific controlled substance such as heroin, or amphetamine and so on. In several cases, the basic test results can give us clues that lead us to carry out further, more detailed tests."

Dr. Aramaki clapped his hands sharply. "All right, that is sufficient introduction. Now, we move on to what we have found." He held out his hand to Dr. Schlessinger, who surrendered the pointer.

"I am not going to report in great detail the results of the generic tests. Suffice to say that Subject Alpha has results consistent with someone suffering from the 'flu, and Subject Beta is in excellent physical shape." Dr. Aramaki waved the pointer dismissively. "We are only going to tell you what interested us in the blood test as well as the very interesting result of a very specific test that we conducted. Now, look here." Dr. Aramaki smacked the projector screen with the pointer and what looked like two identical pages of incomprehensible data side by side popped up on the projector screen.

"These are the blood test results. See these two pages side by side? The one on the left sets out the test results for Subject Alpha. The one on the right shows the test results for Subject Beta. See the items circled in red on these two pages? That represents the red blood cell count, which interested us greatly because the red blood cell count is vastly higher than normal." Dr. Aramaki smacked the projector screen fiercely. "Now see below the line. We tested for the specific substance which is commonly known as blood-boosting jetoxil, more usually abbreviated as JTX. Now, the real medical name for JTX is—" Dr. Aramaki went off into an incomprehensible stream of gibberish. "You don't understand? Never mind. Let me tell you this—_both_ test results are practically identical. _Positive_ for JTX." He jabbed the pointer in the direction of Yukimura and then Sanada. "_Six_ times we tested, thrice for each of you, at two-hourly intervals. The readings are all very close. The margin of error is quite negligible. _Positive_ for JTX, _both subjects_."

"That's—" Sanada began, then halted as Dr. Aramaki glared at him.

"Question and answer session after lecture," the doctor snapped.

"Yes, sir. Please accept my apology."

Dr. Aramaki swung back. "Dr. Sato."

Dr. Sato cleared his throat and took the pointer from Dr. Aramaki. "Current medical knowledge posits that JTX remains in the human body within forty-eight hours after consumption. If a person who has ingested it is not tested within that period, all trace disappears. Now, JTX also has a window period before the blood-boosting takes effect. This window period, on average, is between four to six hours." He pointed to the projector screen.

"Theoretically," added Dr. Schlessinger, "if the purpose was to boost a sports performance, then for good measure, Subjects Alpha and Beta must have ingested JTX at the latest between the hours of nine to eleven yesterday morning, the same day as your match."

Dr. Aramaki took the pointer from Dr. Sato. "That is the end of our lecture," he announced. "Now we will have the question and answer session. Who wants to ask the first question?"

Yanagi Renji raised his hand.

Dr. Aramaki looked hard at him. "Name?"

Yanagi stood up and bowed. "Good morning, Dr. Aramaki. My name is Yanagi Renji."

"What is your question?"

"What caused Seiichi to collapse on court?"

Dr. Aramaki frowned. "Who is Seiichi?"

"Subject Alpha," chorused Dr. Schlessinger and Dr. Sato simultaneously.

Dr. Aramaki's brow cleared. "Ah. Subject Alpha exhibited strong symptoms of what is known as the common 'flu. His sinuses appear to be inflamed, he has a mild throat infection, his temperature hovers at thirty-eight degrees Celsius, or approximately a hundred degrees Fahrenheit, depending on your preference, and he experiences sudden bouts of dizziness. One such bout led him to faint and he collapsed. Next!"

Yanagi raised his hand again, despite the fact that he was still standing. "…I have a second question. Is there a possibility that side effects of JTX triggered Seiichi's collapse on court in the afternoon of Thursday, 28 July?"

Dr. Aramaki paused briefly. "No, we have not been able to draw a positive conclusion due to lack of any medical evidence supporting such a theory."

"Side effects of JTX include flu-like symptoms," Yanagi argued.

Dr Aramaki wrinkled his nose. "Yes. However, there is no way of determining whether these symptoms are genuinely due to 'flu, or a side effect of JTX."

"But you would not rule out such a possibility?" Yanagi asked.

Dr. Aramaki looked at him distastefully. "No, young man, I do not rule out such a possibility. But I reiterate that by no means is this an admission that I concur with your theory that the collapse of Subject Alpha was caused by side effects from JTX." He sniffed. "Could someone else ask the next question, please? I have given this young man enough attention already."

Tachibana Kippei cleared his throat and got to his feet. "Ah, my name is Tachibana Kippei. Doctors, why did you test the two, er, subjects, for JTX?"

There was a pause as the three doctors looked at one another.

Then Dr. Sato spoke, choosing his words carefully. "In our experience, people who are part of the same social or professional circle—which is to say that they spend a great deal of time with each other socially or most likely belong within the same profession or professional category and so on—generally have consumption patterns and other habits in common."

There were several blank faces as everyone tried to comprehend the long-winded statement.

Fuji Syuusuke, who had hitherto maintained his silence, now shattered it in clarion tones. "You mean, because Tezuka Kunimitsu tested positive for JTX, you decided to test both subjects for JTX, because they're all Japanese professional tennis players who travel on the pro circuit together?"

Dr. Sato murmured delicately, "Well …"

Dr. Schlessinger looked at the ceiling apologetically.

Dr. Aramaki folded his arms defensively. "This is our experience. When we saw the high red blood cell count, we were alerted to the fact that there was this irregularity, which had to have some sort of explanation. JTX had already made its presence felt amidst one of the Japanese pros. So it was something that we, all three of us, instinctively felt should be looked into." He looked around. "I think that none of you here will be sorry that we carried out these tests." He turned to face Atobe, Tezuka, Yukimura and Sanada. "You will have to decide whether you want to report this—and to whom. That is not my business, but it is important because it has an impact on your tournament and your career." He looked from Yukimura to Sanada. "Now, which one of you is Subject Alpha?"

"I am," answered Yukimura, unamused.

"You need a lot of rest," Dr. Aramaki told him sharply. "You will remain under the care of Dr. Schlessinger and Nurse Shimano, who will monitor your condition. Do not disobey them, or you will end up being confined for much longer."

Atobe glanced around. "Are there any more questions?"

"Yes." Tezuka stepped forward and bowed. "My name is Tezuka Kunimitsu. I have something to ask Dr. Aramaki, Dr. Schlessinger and Dr. Sato." Tezuka fixed a steady gaze on the three doctors. "Please help us to find out how we ingested JTX." Tezuka's face was extremely serious. "We do not know how it happened. We would never take controlled or banned substances. But this has happened to three of us here—and we would like to stop this from happening again. May we consult you from time to time on this matter? JTX is new to us. As we are not medical experts, we would be grateful if you could give us some advice. Please help us." Tezuka bowed again.

"There's no need for that, Tezuka," Atobe said loftily. "Aramaki-sensei and the others will assist. They are all my personal doctors."

Dr. Aramaki held up a hand. "One moment, Atobe-_san_." He looked at Atobe. "May I?"

Atobe inclined his head graciously. "Certainly."

Dr. Aramaki addressed Tezuka. "I like you, the way you talk. So, yes, I give you my personal word—I will help you. Takahiro? Bert?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

Atobe raised an eyebrow. "We are done with this part, I believe...?"

There were nods all round; no one had any further questions or requests.

"You may leave then. Tell Nurse Shimano to return in another hour."

Dr Aramaki frowned. "Atobe-_san_, Subject Alpha's condition has stabilised, but he is not well. He cannot be allowed to remain awake for extended periods of time, because his body has to heal, and sleep is _absolutely_ crucial."

Atobe nodded. "Not more than one hour."

Dr. Aramaki bowed.

No sooner had Kabaji bolted the doors behind the doctors when Tachibana spoke up.

"I have a very bad feeling about this. First it was Tezuka, and now the doctors say that Yukimura and Sanada have tested positive for JTX as well. I think we have gone beyond coincidence and theory now—there's obviously something very wrong here."

"It's like food poisoning," observed Fuji.

"It needs to be someone who has enough control—and enough opportunity," Oshitari murmured, sliding a look at Inui and Yanagi. "Perhaps we should discuss how this pattern developed."

Tachibana nodded. "We must find out how it happened and who is behind this. But if we tested the others as well…?"

Inui adjusted his glasses. "Tezuka, Yukimura-_san_ and Sanada-_san_ were all tested immediately after a match. Hence their positive results would be logical, since the only reason for taking JTX would be to boost athletic performance. But the others haven't got matches. If we did test them, and there are no positive results, what can we conclude about the motive? Can we say that the perpetrator's motive was to ensure that Tezuka and the others won their matches?"

Fuji cradled his chin in the palm of his hands. "But why _now_…? It's not unusual for athletes to be called up for random drug tests after a match, so why give them JTX…? The testing regime is even stricter than before—the chances of getting caught have increased. It's as if they _want_ Tezuka to be caught."

Atobe, who had been carrying on a very quiet conversation into one of his mobile phones, now put away the mobile phone and raised his voice. "Attention."

There was an abrupt halt to all conversation.

Atobe had settled back in his seat. His gaze was sharp and focused as his eyes roved from one face to the next. "I do believe that it is time for ore-sama to tell you a story."

* * *


	15. Beyond: A Tribute Part 9III

© Gold

**Title**: Beyond: A Tribute

**Author: **Gold

**Disclaimer: **_Prince of Tennis _is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-san or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of _Prince of Tennis _. It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-san or aforesaid entities.

**Author's Ramblings**: If you're still keeping up with this story, my very grateful thanks to you, for continuing to read this. My thanks also to those of you who left reviews. =)

I wasn't able to reply via the Private Message System to **tenipuri4ever** who sent in the one-hundredth review… so… thank you very much, **tenipuri4ever**, for noticing and marking it!

* * *

**Part Nine: The Inconvenient Truth Part 3**

In Cincinnati, Kabaji Munehiro solemnly handed out thick, well-bound volumes to Tezuka, Yukimura and Sanada.

In Atobe Keigo's 'summer cottage' in Karuizawa, Oshitari Yuushi laconically indicated the sideboard nearby, where a stack of identical thick, well-bound volumes sat waiting. "Help yourselves."

To the accompaniment of rustling pages and furrowed brows, Atobe began his speech.

"Some time ago, as part of business expansion plans, I decided to set up a management company with the purpose of managing sports professionals. Naturally, certain enquiries regarding our likely competitors were necessary so that I could assess the situation and refine my business plans accordingly. In the course of my market research, it came to my attention that there were some unusual circumstances involving the employees of a particular management agency." Atobe paused dramatically.

Inui Sadaharu murmured, "And of course the management agency we're all talking just so happens to be the one managing Tezuka and the others."

Atobe ignored Inui. "As you can see, I have arranged for these… incidents… to be documented in detail in a preliminary report. I had originally intended to return to Tokyo, but the conclusions in this report convinced me otherwise. Too much time would be wasted travelling."

"Ah." Inui looked enlightened. "I remember now. When Oshitari-_san_ rang me early this morning, he _did_ mention that you were planning to return to Tokyo, together with Tezuka. It had slipped my mind."

"Hrm," muttered Tachibana Kippei, poring over his copy of the preliminary report. His brows met in a deep, displeased 'V' over his nose. "_Hrrrrrm_."

Yanagi Renji thumbed rapidly through his copy of the preliminary report. "Inflation of expenses, the attributing of items of expenditure to services that had never been acquired in the first place, salaries paid to phantom employees, forged invoices, unauthorised withdrawal of funds—"

"Fraud," said Fuji Syuusuke, without smiling.

"Although everything points that way, I would prefer to leave the business of defining that to the lawyers, and you would be wise to do so as well," Atobe said, sounding nettled. "Now, if you will all allow me to finish…?"

"Go on, Atobe," Oshitari said soothingly. "We won't say another word."

Atobe, still looking faintly put out, continued. "In order to understand how this happened, I will first explain to you the current system that is in place.

"Every year, the management agency presents an annual estimated budget to each of the players. The budget estimates expenses for each player for the fiscal year, which runs parallel to the tennis events calendar. Items within the budget include the agreed management fee for that particular year, and the salaries and fees for the managers, the coaches, nutritionists, publicists, legal counsel, translators, psychologists, the medical team, and administrative staff. The budget also includes estimated expenses for items such as administrative arrangements, transportation, accommodation, sports supplies, possible emergencies and other items.

"The management has the responsibility of drawing up the budget and taking each player through the details of his budget. Each player finances his respective budget and pays the required sum to the management, which puts the money into a trust account and manages it for the player. The management draws out the money every time expenses are incurred. Players are presented with invoices, other types of billings, receipts and bank statements as proof of the expenses.

"If at any time during the fiscal year, it so happens that there is insufficient money in the trust account to meet the expenses, the management agency then draws up a fresh proposal for the extra expenditure and approaches the players to fund the increment."

Yanagi tapped his copy of the preliminary report disapprovingly. "Seiichi, Genichirou, why didn't you tell me about this earlier? If this is the system that you have had in place all along, then I can think of several dozen different ways to fleece money from you. It's not terribly difficult."

"Don't worry, Renji," Yukimura said, very pleasantly. "When I've switched careers to embezzling, I'll definitely make you my partner."

Tachibana was still frowning. "Atobe, how did you get all this…?"

"My investigators located an invaluable informant, who provided us with a great deal of useful information. From there, it was simply a matter of detailed investigation." Atobe snapped his fingers. "Kabaji."

"_Usu_."

Kabaji adjusted the position of one of the laptops so that it faced Tezuka, Yukimura and Sanada. Several photographs immediately came into view on the laptop; simultaneously, in Karuizawa, the same photographs appeared on the giant LCD screen.

"These faces ought to be very familiar to three of you." Atobe indicated the first photograph with a flick of his fingers. "This is Sasabe Toshio, who is part of the medical team from the NTAJ."

Yukimura's mouth thinned into a straight line.

The expression in Tezuka's eyes grew sharp.

Sanada's face turned black.

"This is Nishimura Yuji, the managing director of the management agency; Abe Daiki, who manages Tezuka and Kirihara Akaya; Yamagata Kouhei, who manages Sanada and Ibu Shinji; Hashimoto Toru, who manages Kaidoh Kaoru; Terai Hideki, who manages Yukimura and Echizen Ryoma; Kobayashi Masame and Gorou Saori, respectively the head and vice-head of the administrative team that makes the arrangements for all the players; Shibata Nadeshiko, head of human capital; and Noguchi Takaaki, the head of the finance department. I won't bother to name the rest; I'm certain that you recognise some other very familiar names and faces amongst these photographs."

There was a dead silence, followed by Yukimura's voice cutting through it, a veritable blade of cold fury.

"Finish your story, Atobe."

"The earliest incident that the investigators have managed to uncover appears to date back to nearly one and a half years ago," Atobe informed them. "It appears that Nishimura Yuji submitted a false declaration that inflated his expenses for travelling and accommodation by twenty-five percent. The additional expense was because he had brought his mistress with him to the Australian Open tournament—and apparently this mistress has very expensive tastes. Naturally, this was never part of the budget, so he had to find a way of including it—and you can see he did it quite adroitly."

"It would never have been approved in _any_ budget," Tachibana growled in disgust.

"How does this Sasabe Toshio come into this…?" asked Inui curiously. "He's a part of the _medical_ team, whereas the rest of these people are from the management agency itself."

Atobe's upper lip curled contemptuously. "He was appointed by the management agency as one of their authorised signatories for the trust accounts. His older brother, Sasabe Tenzo, is the other director of the management agency and its sole shareholder. Nearly all the withdrawals from the trust accounts were signed off by Sasabe Toshio and countersigned by Nishimura. Furthermore, only Nishimura was required to approve the requests for the withdrawals before the actual sums were drawn from the trust accounts and paid to the purported vendors of the services, or reimbursed to the management company, for the alleged expenses."

Yukimura, in a rare display of anger, slammed shut his copy of the preliminary report. "I've seen and heard enough, Atobe."

Yanagi cast a glance at Yukimura. "I'm sure this will be over soon, Seiichi. Just a few minutes more. – Atobe, who is this informant of yours?"

The photograph of a woman in her early thirties flashed into view.

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Oshitari sighed. "Even the meek-looking ones."

"Your assessment is quite accurate, Yuushi." Atobe didn't bother to hide a smirk. "Her name is Suzuki Ryoko. She was, until a few months ago, Nishimura's mistress. I will spare you the sordid details. Suffice to say that she proved to have some pieces of very interesting documentary evidence, which yielded plenty of leads."

Fuji looked thoughtful. "You are certain that she is reliable?"

Atobe smiled in a superior manner. "If it comes to the crunch, I do not need her as a witness. She was merely a springboard to greater things, allowing us to unearth what we were looking for. She did not hold the key, but she knew where the keys were kept."

Yanagi nodded with approval. "Good. Women are emotional creatures—she may very well turn around and decide that her former lover is more important than any injured feelings she may have."

Atobe waved a hand dismissively. "There are many other instances that can be pinned on the perpetrators involved, without our having to rely on this woman's word alone. And even if she were to inform Nishimura about this, there is no fear of our being unable to press forward, or to uncover the truth." He looked at Tezuka, Sanada and Yukimura. "If all of you turn over copies of your bank statements, the past budgets and all other documents given to you by the management, I believe a team of lawyers and auditors would be able to put together a very interesting little folder for us." Atobe gestured towards their copies of the preliminary report. "I would also like your personal evidence to corroborate what is in there."

Inui looked up from his copy of the report, his glasses glinting. "Sasabe Toshio. Sasabe Tenzo. I was wondering why these two names sounded so familiar. Now, if I recall correctly, Sasabe Tenzo is the treasurer of the National Tennis Association of Japan. I wonder…?"

Yanagi said musingly, "Indeed…"

Sanada Genichirou clenched his fists. "Sasabe Toshio's work is highly dissatisfactory. He is extremely lazy and impudent. We insisted that he be removed."

Atobe arched an eyebrow. "You are aware, are you not, that he is still named as part of the medical team—and that not only do you continue to pay for his dissatisfactory services, but that he is also an authorised signatory of the management company."

Sanada's voice was flinty. "We were told by the management – and a lawyer – that his contract could only be terminated after two years. We had no choice. We also have no control over who the management company appoints as its authorised signatory. We had no idea about this."

Tezuka cleared his throat. "The mandatory two-year period in Sasabe Toshio-_san_'s contract will be over at the end of this year. As he was strongly recommended by the NTAJ, we have prepared a joint letter to the NTAJ to explain why we do not wish to renew his contract."

"That reminds me," said Yukimura abruptly. "There is an NTAJ representative whom we see quite often on the tour. I don't remember his name, but he seems to work harder than the last two we had." He glanced at Sanada and Tezuka. "He asked me a great deal of questions about our typical routine and the work scope of the coaches, nutritionists, the medical team and the management. He seemed particularly interested in Sasabe Toshio and Nishimura Yuji."

"His name is Ito Matsuki," Tezuka said almost immediately. "I have spoken to him once or twice. He asked me the same questions."

Yukimura looked at Sanada. "Genichirou?"

Sanada nodded his head very simply.

"Interesting," murmured Oshitari. "Was the NTAJ representative conducting what amounts to a _quality check_…?"

Tachibana shifted in his seat. "Be that as it may, I believe that it is best for us to take a step back and look at the big picture. We have a great number of issues here.

"First, I think that we should concentrate, as our top priority, on Tezuka's matter. It's the most immediate issue here and we really need to do something about it. That's why we're all here in the first place.

"Second, we have to hold a press conference shortly. The press is out there; they're waiting for a response. Even if you did put out those holding statements, Atobe, the fact is that there has been no further information going out from our side. I'm only afraid that this delay would harm Tezuka further."

"Third, I believe it is clear that there may be a pattern of JTX use within our team. I would support doing testing for the other players, so that we can find out for certain and decide on our next step.

"Lastly, about this matter of fraud—as players, you all rely on your management team to watch your back, not to cheat you. I agree with Atobe that we should obtain all the documents that the management has provided over the last few years and then work things out with the lawyers and auditors. We have to start right away, because I think these things take a long time to sort out. This preliminary report was not achieved in a single day, or even a single week. I think it must have taken _months_.

"If there are any other issues, I think we should put them aside for the moment. I feel that we should try and do something about these four issues first. I think that our problem is that we have to tackle them all _at the same time_. We can't afford to look at them one by one. We haven't got enough time for that."

There were a number of approving nods by the time Tachibana had finished speaking.

"Our team," echoed Fuji, doodling nonsense figures with his index finger on the polished surface of the table.

Tachibana nodded. "_Our_ team now. We're all in on this—isn't that why we signed up in the first place?"

"Hear, hear," Fuji said cheerfully.

"_Kizuna_," murmured Inui wisely, but nobody seemed to have heard him.

"Speaking of press conferences," remarked Yukimura, "I don't recall consenting to my name being put down at the end of that press statement. Wasn't I unconscious?"

Yanagi gave him an amused look. "Seiichi, you're not going to back out like that, are you?"

Yukimura's eyes flashed. "_No_." His tone implied that he would throttle anyone who did the same.

"We are all agreed, then. Excellent." Atobe looked deeply satisfied. "There's no time like the present."

"For…?" queried Fuji, looking interested.

"The next steps," Atobe replied coolly. "We are going to deal with all these issues simultaneously." His gaze blazed as it swept around the hospital suite and landed on Tezuka, Yukimura and Sanada. "Get the players together. I want _all_ the contracts you have with the management agency and every one of the coaches, nutritionists, medical team and all personnel. I want every proof of expenditure produced by the management agency, every letter, every email, every bank account statement, every proof of your payment into the trust account or the management agency, every budget proposal – _everything_. Originals, if you please. I don't care how long it takes you eventually, but I want to see some results within the next four hours, by seven a.m. I have a team of lawyers and auditors arriving by then; they will look through the documents. We _will_ prove fraud and breach of contract — that's how I'm going to get you out of your management contracts."

Yanagi murmured, "So that's how it was going to go."

"Indeed." Atobe didn't miss a beat. "Tezuka, I've scheduled a meeting for you at eight tomorrow morning with lawyers. I've already briefed them. Be prepared to discuss the legal options," Atobe told him. "The ATMP is likely to announce some sort of hearing panel very soon, probably tomorrow morning. Yukimura and Sanada, you two are to sit in on the lawyers' meeting as well.

"I shall schedule the press conference for a quarter to eight, Cincinnati time, tomorrow evening. That brings us within the twenty-four hour deadline I set. It also coincides with the morning news hour in Tokyo. In the meantime, there will be a media blitz here, in the United States and Europe, with a parallel campaign in Japan. You need not worry about that; it's already on-going as I speak. I have also arranged for meetings with the lawyers and media consultants to hear their advice on how we should handle the press conference, and I expect every one of you to attend these meetings. You will be informed of the schedule of meetings very shortly." Atobe paused for a moment. "Yuushi, how many people have you…?"

"Enough to start a small riot," Oshitari replied pleasantly. "About thirty, perhaps…?"

Atobe had a speculative expression on his face. "_Hn_." He narrowed his eyes, looking hard at the five people sitting in the room in Karuizawa. "Brief them—I'll run through with you how much we should tell them. I'll let you know what I want from them later—and I leave it to you how you'll arrange it. Tachibana—I want you to work with Yuushi. Both of you will take charge and co-ordinate matters between yourselves in Japan and ourselves here in the U.S. Tachibana, Yuushi will explain things to you."

Tachibana gave a short, sharp nod of his head. Oshitari looked distinctly pleased; he preferred not to be the only one responsible for herding people around like sheep.

"What about the people behind JTX…?" Fuji asked.

Atobe's mouth curved into a grim smile. "Leave that to _ore-sama_."

Yukimura sank back wearily against his pillows. "It seems," he observed, "that a lot depends on what happens next."

The room fell silent. There was just so much, they knew, resting on how fast they could move, and whether events unfolding in the next several hours would be to their advantage—or not.

Atobe it was who broke the silence with his characteristic drawl: "Follow _ore-sama_ and you won't go wrong."

Tachibana took a deep breath. "Well, let's do our best," he said firmly.

"Let us not be careless," Tezuka reminded them all.

Yukimura's voice was soft, but steely. "We will not let them destroy our dreams."

Sanada, tight-lipped and grim-faced, did not say anything. Instead, he stepped forward and raised an arm, with a clenched fist.

The response that this simple gesture garnered was instantaneous.

Yukimura sat up immediately, his eyes very bright. Tezuka and Atobe rose, almost as one, to their feet. Kabaji moved forward, just a little. Chairs were pushed back eagerly as Oshitari, Inui, Yanagi, Tachibana and Fuji stood up with more speed and haste than care; indeed, a couple of chairs even toppled over.

One by one, they raised their arms, their fists clenched so tightly that the whites of their knuckles showed.

Yukimura Seiichi.

Yanagi Renji.

Tezuka Kunimitsu.

Tachibana Kippei.

Atobe Keigo.

Kabaji Munehiro.

Oshitari Yuushi.

Fuji Syuusuke.

Inui Sadaharu.

It was as if someone had opened a skylight, and let in sunshine and the spirit of summer. A fresh, cool wind seemed to sweep through, and the air felt sweeter and clearer. They held their heads up a little higher, stood a little straighter, breathed a little easier and squared their shoulders just that bit more.

So what, if time was running against them?

So what, if everything depended on the next several hours?

So what, if nearly everything was not within their control?

They were ready, as never before, to fight the good fight.

_This is **our** team_.

* * *

**Notes:**

1. In Part 3, An Epoch In Yanagi Renji's Life, Inui states in his excerpted diary entry that he heard from Oshitari that Atobe and Tezuka were going to fly back to Tokyo that day (or night, depending on the timezone you're thinking of).

2. In Part 8, The Wheels Begin To Turn, Nishimura Yuji is mentioned by Ito Matsuki as "Nishimura", who hangs out a lot with Sasabe Tenzo's brother.

3. This is July 2010. One and a half years back is January 2009 -- the time of the Australian Open.


	16. Beyond: A Tribute Part 10

© Gold

**Title**: Beyond: A Tribute

**Part Ten**: Listen To Your Heart

**Author: **Gold

**Disclaimer: **_Prince of Tennis _is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-san or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of _Prince of Tennis _. It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-_san_ or aforesaid entities.

**Author's Ramblings:** Excuse the cheesy title. This is a chapter completely devoted to Oishi and Eiji.

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**Part Ten: Listen To Your Heart**

Oishi Syuuchirou had always wanted to visit Hokkaido ever since he was a little boy. Hokkaido was famous for its excellent confectionery, the most delicious milk in all of Japan, the creamiest and coldest ice-cream -- and, of course, for its lush acres of lavender fields that bloomed in full glory all through the hot summer months. In the winter, Hokkaido's temperatures were the iciest in all Japan, but it also had some of the best skiing to be found -- far less crowded and overwhelming than Nagano, and with absolutely beautiful slopes and marvellous scenery.

Hokkaido, in short, was gorgeous. Oishi had just never imagined in all his life that he would be there for one of the worst possible reasons.

He sat down slowly on an exposed tree root and gazed around him. All around lay an endless patchwork of fields in a myriad of brilliant colours, narrow, lonely country roads, long belts of trees and small clusters of rooftops peeking shyly over the horizon. A strong breeze whipped through the air, leaving several swaying tree branches in its wake, but it barely ruffled Oishi's neat hair. It was utterly peaceful. The rolling green hills yonder, the beautiful fields of flowers in full bloom, the strong breeze...

Oishi lifted his face to the eternal, cloudless blue of the sky above and begged, silently:

_Will you help me find Momo, please?_

He had been here in Biei, Hokkaido for the last few days, helping in the search for Momoshiro Takeshi. Biei was a placid, rural town spread over a large land area, but with a decidedly scanty population, and they had hardly any police force to speak of. The Biei police didn't have search dogs, but some of the local residents owned dogs, and the police from the nearby city of Asahikawa had also sent one round to assist in the search. Nevertheless, their efforts seemed futile. Yesterday morning, they had found Momoshiro's backpack. It had been pretty much intact - including the mouldy remains of his lunch after the due process of decomposition over four days. There was very little else to go on and, not surprisingly, the worst was feared. The search had been temporarily suspended for yesterday afternoon, when a surprise summer storm hit. Unfortunately, the rain had also helped to wash away a good deal of the scent markers that might have helped the search dogs.

Oishi brushed a hand over his eyes. The Biei police had said very apologetically and regretfully that morning that they would have to call off the search, if nothing more could be found by the end of the day. Already, it was nearly three in the afternoon, and time ticked steadily away. In three hours, the search would be over.

A deep well of numbness seemed to rise up from the bottom of Oishi's heart, sinking into him, and steeping him in a nameless, fear-filled misery. Oishi buried his face in his hands. If only there was a clue of some sort -- if _only_!

The trees rustled; it seemed that the wind had changed direction. A shadow dappled across the grass at Oishi's feet, turning the fresh grassy shoots a darker shade of green.

"Oishi...?"

Time seemed to freeze, hanging on the cusp of that one brief moment.

"...Oishi...?"

Oishi raised his head very, very slowly.

"_Nya_, Oishi...?"

A hand waved itself frantically in front of Oishi's face.

Oishi's lips parted, as if to say something, but no voice emerged from his throat.

"_Oishi!_" The newcomer dropped to his knees in front of Oishi and seized him by the shoulders, shaking him a little. "Oishi, what's wrong? Oishi! Are you all right?!"

Oishi's eyes, hitherto wide and blank, seemed to focus a little, and travelled up and down the anxious face in front of him. "...Eiji?"

Kikumaru Eiji sank back on his haunches and his hands slid down to grip Oishi's arms instead. He looked tremendously relieved. "You remember my name! You're all right!"

Oishi gently, but firmly, removed Eiji's hands from their grip on his arms. "Eiji, what are you doing here? Aren't you in Osaka?"

Eiji fidgeted. "Inui said that you were here."

Oishi blinked. "...eh?"

Eiji heaved a small sigh and folded his arms. "Inui called me. He said that Atobe -- you know, Hyoutei's Atobe--"

"I remember him."

"Who could forget him?" Eiji made a face. "Anyway, Hyoutei's Atobe was calling us all in, _all_ of us who knew Tezuka. Not just from Seigaku, Oishi! From everywhere! SeiRuu and Yamabuki and Fudomine -- everyone, _everywhere_, even Rokkaku!" Eiji bounced up and down excitedly on his heels. "Atobe's planning something -- Inui said he didn't know what, but they're all going to help Tezuka. Atobe's going to do something about it. Fuji's there. Taka-_san_'s there. Inui's there. And we'll be there soon! So, Oishi, don't worry!"

Oishi was quiet for a moment, looking into that bright, expressive face. "But... why did you come here?"

Eiji said cheerfully, "Didn't I tell you? Inui said that you were here. So of course I came." His face scrunched up dolefully. "I flew here, from Osaka."

"...oh."

"And it cost me _twenty-six_ thousand yen! From _Osaka_ to Asahikawa!" wailed Eiji piteously. "I had to borrow money from my brothers and sister!"

He looked so comically tragic that Oishi found the corners of his mouth turning upwards although he tried hard not to laugh. "Well," said Oishi, as comfortingly as he could without bursting into giggles, "it's not too bad... it was still a special summer fare, wasn't it?"

Eiji wagged his head vigorously. "Yes! _Nya_, Oishi..." He looked at Oishi. "You came here to look for Momo, right? Right?"

Oishi drew a deep breath before speaking. "Yes. Yes, I did." _But I haven't found him_.

Eiji cocked his head to one side, waiting.

"The police say that they'll end the search today," Oishi said. "I -- I don't know what to do, Eiji. He's out there _somewhere _-- but I wish that I knew where... if we don't find him today..." His voice trailed off and he bit his lip.

"Let's find him together."

"Huh?"

Eiji jumped up. "I got here from the airport ages ago, and I was looking for you all over. You didn't answer your mobile phone, Oishi." Eiji looked disapproving. Then he made a grand, swooping motion with one hand. "Look around, Oishi! It's all trees and fields and hills, lots and lots of them! I was looking for you in maybe hundreds of thousands of square miles of fields and hills! I cycled without stopping for two hours! How do you think I found you?"

Oishi hesitated a moment before taking the plunge. "...how?" he asked cautiously.

Eiji smiled at him, and Oishi's breath hitched in his throat. There was something in the smile on Eiji's face, and something in the look in Eiji's eyes, that Oishi had never seen before, not in all the years he had known Kikumaru Eiji.

Eiji knelt down. "We're the Golden Pair." He put his hand over his heart and looked directly into Oishi's eyes. "Oishi's here. So I will always be able to find you. _Always_." He reached forward and placed his other hand against Oishi's chest. "_Nya_, Oishi, I'm _there_, too. So when I'm looking for you, you'll call out to me, and I'll know where you are. And if you're looking for me, I'll call out to you -- so you'll know just where to find me."

Oishi swallowed a lump in his throat.

Eiji's eyes were shining so brightly that Oishi found it difficult to look into them. "So I _know_ that we can find Momo, Oishi. 'Cause we're the Golden Pair, and we can do _anything_! And 'cause --" here Eiji thumped the spot over his heart, and patted Oishi's chest, right over Oishi's heart -- "we've got Momo here, too. You and me. So we'll definitely find him. _Definitely!_"

"Ah," murmured Oishi, feeling suddenly that his heart was too full for him to be able to say anything else.

Eiji beamed at him and got to his feet. "Okay! Let's go, Oishi!" He held out a hand to Oishi.

Oishi grasped the proffered hand, and let out a whoosh of breath as Eiji hauled him firmly to his feet.

"Eiji..."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Silly Oishi. Let's go!"

* * *

By four in the afternoon, Eiji looked as if he was wilting in the heat, despite the fact that he was wearing Oishi's sunhat, oversized sunglasses and a thin cotton tank top.

"My jeans are melting off me," he moaned, his bicycle wobbling dangerously.

"Fold them up to your knees," Oishi suggested patiently, slowing his bicycle to a stop. He had a white bandana tied Kaidoh-style around his head to keep off the heat, since Eiji had his sunhat.

Eiji half-fell off his bicycle and let it crash on its side. He stooped down and began slowly rolling up a jean leg. "Did anyone find anything else?"

"Not since yesterday. So far, they've found only the backpack. Nothing was missing. It was as if he just put it down and went somewhere else." Oishi mopped his forehead, his face, his neck, his arms -- in fact, every part of him was dripping with perspiration. Even his toes were feeling unhappily moist and cramped in his shoes. "I haven't had any further news today." He frowned. "The mobile phone reception out here isn't very good."

Eiji made a little noise, which Oishi took to mean frustration with his jeans.

"Just two hours more," Oishi muttered anxiously to himself, glancing at the watch on his wrist. The search would end by six.

Eiji made the funny little noise again.

"Eiji? What is it?"

Eiji was peering over his sunglasses, his forehead wrinkled and his gaze fixed on something in the distance. "Oishi... something's there."

"Eh?"

"Down there." Eiji pointed down the road.

Oishi squatted down beside Eiji and shaded his eyes with his hand. "... where?"

Eiji sprang to his feet. "I think I know what it is!" He took off at a run, leaving Oishi behind him.

When Oishi finally caught up with him, two bicycles in tow, Eiji was half-bent by the side of the road.

"Don't go into the field," Oishi reminded him. "We're not allowed there."

"I know," Eiji replied absently. He stood up, frowning. "Oishi, look." He held out his hand, the palm open and facing upwards. "I found this in the middle of the road."

Oishi stared at the object lying on Eiji's palm. It was a broken keychain. "It must have fallen off--"

"_Momo_, Oishi," interrupted Eiji in an urgent tone. "_Momo_."

Startled, Oishi looked more closely at the keychain. What he had thought was a rather odd design for a keychain -- a faded pink, oddly-shaped thing decorated with a little bit of pale green -- "Why, it's a _peach!_" And then Oishi realised, in a blinding flash, what Eiji was trying to say.

Momoshiro had always liked to carry around accessories that included in their design his namesake, peaches. The nametag dangling off his schoolbag in junior high and senior high had a badly-drawn peach next to his name, and a keychain in the shape of two peaches hung from the zip; as for his tennis bag, wallet, mobile phone, pencil case -- none of them were spared. Even Momo's special towel had a row of peaches on each end. If this keychain really _was_ Momoshiro's--

"Are you _sure_, Eiji?" Oishi wanted to know. "I mean, might this have been dropped by a girl...?" It was a horribly long shot, that this keychain could actually belong to _Momo_, of all people, and they had found it here, in the middle of nowhere.

Eiji's fingers closed over the keychain. "Oishi." The fist holding the keychain reached out and pressed itself against Oishi's chest. "Listen to your heart. Close your eyes, Oishi." A hand reached out and covered Oishi's eyes. "What does it say?"

Oishi, his eyes obediently closed, heard only the quick, rhythmic beat of his heart in his ears. _Doki-doki_. _Doki-doki_. With a sigh, he took hold of the hand covering his eyes and gently pushed it away, opening his eyes. "I believe you're right, Eiji. But it hasn't got anything to do with my heart."

"Eh?"

Oishi looked at the keychain again. "This keychain is old and used. I think that a girl wouldn't carry it around in this condition ... if it was precious to her, she would keep it away amongst her treasures. If it wasn't precious, she would throw it away... perhaps by the side of the road." Oishi lifted the keychain from Eiji's outstretched palm. "She wouldn't drop it in the middle of the road. And guys don't carry keychains like these around... except Momo." He turned the keychain over. "And look, Eiji."

The little peach was made of metal; on its back, it was a dull silvery colour. There were two characters edged into the metal: _Tokyo_.

"Echizen won this at a _Tanabata_ fair a few years ago," Oishi said softly. "We were in our second year in high school then. Echizen was just finishing junior high."

"I remember!" Eiji exclaimed, bending closer. "Momo won the big prize of a week's supply of cat food. He and _ochibi_ swopped their prizes, but Momo always said that _ochibi_ got the better deal."

"Taka-_san_ won a keychain, too," Oishi went on. "His keychain was in the shape of a big fruit basket, and behind it had the same characters. I thought at that time that the stall owner at the fair must have bought all the key chains from the same shop."

"He probably did," Eiji said agreeably. He tilted his head, smiling. "_Nya_, Oishi, who says that it hasn't got anything to do with your heart? You could remember all these - wasn't that what your heart was telling you to remember?"

Oishi smiled back. "Maybe. But it also needed my brain to remember."

Eiji pouted.

Oishi changed the subject. "Eiji, you could see the keychain from all the way back there?"

Eiji put his hands on his hips indignantly. "_Oishi_. I've got the _best_ eyes in Seigaku, remember? Even _ochibi_ doesn't have eyes better than mine and he's a top pro tennis player! I've got _diamond_ eyes, I tell you!"

Oishi couldn't help smiling. "Of course."

Eiji grinned happily back at him, and then looked at the keychain. "But Oishi, do you really think this means that Momo came here?"

Oishi said thoughtfully, "It's quite likely. This could have fallen off his backpack." He reached into his shoulder bag and pulled out a map. "We're on this road. Further down -- Eiji, you're heavy."

"Sorry." Eiji took his chin away from Oishi's shoulder, but continued to hover close by.

"This leads to Shirogane. The sign we passed back there says we're a few kilometres from the White Birch Avenue... but if Momoshiro had passed this way, he would have needed a bicycle. Why didn't they find out if he had rented a bike?"

"He could have gone there by bus," Eiji pointed out reasonably. "Personally, Oishi, I think we're crazy to be cycling there. I wish we'd taken the bus. I'm boiling, we haven't seen anybody except maybe cows and lots and lots and _lots _of hills and fields, and I'm getting hungry." He tapped his foot impatiently. "And thirsty."

"I have some food. We'll eat in a while. You can have some of my water, too," Oishi said placatingly. "Nobody remembered seeing him on the bus..."

Eiji rolled his eyes. "I've got my own, thanks... but that's not what I meant," he grumbled. "Oishi, nobody would remember Momo unless he looked like a foreigner with blue eyes and yellow hair, or if he looked like a gangster. I mean, nobody would notice Momo unless he looked really weird and not normal."

"That's true," Oishi agreed. "Besides, I don't think that anybody thought that Momo might take this road... we all thought that he must have lost his way nearer to Biei, maybe near one of the farms. Everyone thought that he must have gone for a walk around Biei, maybe the Panoramic Road. That's why the search concentrated efforts nearer to central Biei. This is a bit out of the way. We're outside the main part of Biei now." He looked down at the map. "There's a nature trail here, by the side of the White Birch Avenue. There's also a waterfall further up, the Shirogane Fudou Waterfall... oh, there's one more waterfall here, the Shirohige Waterfall, near the Shirogane _onsen_."

Eiji chewed anxiously on his lower lip. "Oishi..."

"Hmm?"

"Momo likes waterfalls. If I were Momo, I'd want to see the waterfalls. I'd take the bus from the station, not a bicycle. It's too far. There's an _onsen_ at the end of the route, right?"

Oishi turned to look at Eiji.

"Momo would want to go there." Eiji had a faraway look on his face. "When _ochibi_ was still here, and Tezuka, and Kaidoh too, we'd all go to the _onsen_ together, remember? It was really fun. If I were Momo, if I heard of an _onsen_, I would want to go there, just so that I could tell _ochibi_ about it. There aren't any proper _onsen_ in America, after all."

Oishi looked down at the map. They were still a good four or so kilometres from the trail and the beginnings of the White Birch Avenue. Another fifteen minutes or less on their bicycles might do it.

"Come on, Eiji." Oishi swung himself on to his bicycle.

"We're really going to cycle there, aren't we?" Eiji asked mournfully, hopping on to his bicycle.

"We don't have much of a choice, do we?" Oishi replied. "I think we can do four kilometres in less than fifteen minutes."

"Ten minutes."

Oishi arched an eyebrow. "Are you challenging me to a race?"

Eiji's grin was huge and brilliant. "_Nya_, I wasn't the one who said that!"

Oishi threw back his head and laughed. For the first time in a very long time, he was filled with hope -- hope that everything would turn out all right for Tezuka, that they would find Momoshiro, well and alive, and that somehow, the world that had turned so topsy-turvy a handful of days ago was slowly but surely righting itself again.

Then they were off, the Golden Pair, their bicycles side by side as they streaked down the narrow road that led, they hoped, to their missing friend.

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	17. Beyond: A Tribute Interlude III

© Gold

**Title**: Beyond: A Tribute

**Interlude III**: Momoshiro's Story

**Author: **Gold  
**Disclaimer: **_Prince of Tennis _is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-san or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of _Prince of Tennis _. It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-san or aforesaid entities.

**Author's Notes:**

1. Dohoku is the name of the company service that provides the buses for several routes around Hokkaido, including the route that starts from Asahikawa, Hokkaido and ends at the Shirogane _onsen_. Creative licence: having never been on that bus route, I don't know what bus-stops there may be along the way. For the purposes of this story, we will assume that they are where I want them to be…

2. In my Prince of Tennis world, the boys move on, together, to the same high school, i.e. Seigaku. It's evidently a good private school with a perfectly decent academic record, so I don't understand why they would want to go anywhere else. Besides, education is important, and in real life, they should keep up with their education even if they wanted to turn pro. A pro's life is short; they need to plan for what happens after they've retired from professional tennis.

3. It's nice to know that there are a lot of people out there who like Momoshiro. Personally, I've got a _very_ strong affection for him – he's one of my two favourite characters in PoT.

4. I originally wanted to post this up later, but I've got this funny feeling that it should go up...

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**Interlude III**: Momoshiro's Story

**_Saturday, July 24, 2010_**

_It's been said that when you are close to death, your entire life flashes before you in an instant._

_Momoshiro Takeshi never had time for that instant._

_Everything happened too fast; all he could feel was the way the air rushed past him as he fell, and how the rocks and trees tore off his flesh and skin and broke his bones cruelly as he tumbled down, head over heels, his arms flailing madly as he tried to grip on to something, or to protect himself…_

_Then, merciful blackness…_

Momoshiro Takeshi shaded his eyes with one hand as he peered upwards.

_Perfect_ was a strong word to use, but he thought that it was the only word that fitted the description of the weather. The sky was an incredible colour, so brilliant a shade of blue that he couldn't stop looking up at it in wonder, and the sunshine poured down lavishly, so bright in some spots that he wisely chose not to look directly at it. The air was pure and clear, and transparent for _miles_ around; he had the oddest feeling that if he looked through a telescope, he might just be able to see all the way across the Pacific Ocean – or, if he looked in another direction, all the way to Russia.

He was all set.

It was a gorgeous Saturday morning and he, Momoshiro, was about to add a brand new title to his name – Momoshiro Takeshi, _explorer du jour_.

On this day, he was far away on the beautiful island of Hokkaido, together with his team-mates from Tokyo's Seishun Gakuen University Tennis Club. They were there to take part in a two-week-long tennis clinic being held for primary school children all over the island. Biei, a rural township somewhere in Hokkaido, was their last stop before they returned to Sapporo, and from thence, to Tokyo. It was Saturday; they would be leaving the next day. Fortuitously, the schedule had freed up several hours for the tennis club members for Saturday, and Momoshiro fully intended to exploit all that leisure time in order to explore the township of Biei, Hokkaido, and the area that lay beyond it.

In a fit of zeal, Momoshiro had woken up extra early that morning, determined to make the most of the time he had. Now, Momoshiro had always been a great believer in sharing good things with his friends, so he did his level best to drag along some of his team-mates from the Seishun Gakuen University Tennis Club on his planned expedition around Biei… but everyone seemed to be too tired to get out of bed. Waking up at a quarter to eight in the morning was just too early, particularly on a holiday. Really, Momoshiro clucked privately to himself, they were no fun, no fun at all! That, however, wasn't going to stop him from going ahead on his own. He had scrounged together some food and drink, had a map in hand, and the whole world at his feet. He felt courageous, adventurous and very manly.

All trips began from the JR Biei station, which was where Momoshiro eventually found himself that morning. The JR Biei station building was built in a quaint, if somewhat European-influenced style, which was very pleasant to look at, although a little plain. The handful of buses which passed by the station were all specifically designed to assist tourists to get to the prime tourist attractions in and around the area. Momoshiro, of course, had the alternative of taking the railway, if he so chose.

After a few minutes of deliberation, he decided that he would take the bus. Most attractive to his eye was the route that ended at the Shirogane _onsen_. The idea of an adventurous trek over hill and dale, through forest and mountain, and then finishing up with a relaxing dip in an _onsen_,was very appealing to Momoshiro. Shirogane _onsen_. It had a pretty good name, too. He could hardly wait to tell Echizen about the _onsen_ – that is, if the brat wasn't too busy trying to win another ATP title to talk to him. What was it now – the Cincinnati Masters, wasn't it? The problem with Echizen was that he was always too busy playing tennis. Tezuka-_sempai_, now, no matter how busy he was, always took the time to send cards twice a year, and handwritten to boot. Now _that_ was friendship for you. Echizen still had lots more to learn – _mada mada da ne_.

Momoshiro snickered a little at the thought. Then he determinedly hauled his mind back from whence it had wandered, firmly drawing its attention back to the list of attractions afforded on the route he had chosen. Yes, he had been right – that route would take him past a couple of waterfalls. There was the Fudou Waterfall – ha, he was going to take photographs and show 'em to his good friend Kamio Akira, who used to attend a school with almost the same name as the waterfall – and oh, look, there was _another_ waterfall further up, the Shirohige Waterfall, practically next to the _onsen_. Momoshiro had always had a soft spot for waterfalls. He had spent many a precious day with his good friend, Taka-_san_, doing strength training in the mountains, back in the good old days when they were team-mates on the junior high and high school tennis team. Those halcyon days were long past, and Momoshiro was alone now, in the university that had been affiliated to their junior high and senior high schools…

Momoshiro clapped his hands to his face. Now wasn't the time to get all sentimental, he told himself sternly; he had a _real_ adventure before him, and he intended to enjoy every minute of it.

The Dohoku bus that plied the Asahikawa-Biei-Shirogane _onsen_ route was already carrying a fair bit of a crowd by the time Momoshiro got on that morning, although it was barely a quarter to nine then. Momoshiro found himself a seat, next to a ruddy-faced, middle-aged man, who was fast asleep, and put his backpack in the compartment above his head.

There were several other people on the bus and Momoshiro couldn't help eyeing them with great curiosity. There was a large group of about seven or eight young people whom he knew had to be Korean; one of his closest friends in the university was an ethnic Korean and Momoshiro had heard the Korean tongue at his friend's house often enough to recognise the sound of the language, even if he didn't understand what was being said. There were also several Caucasian tourists (Momoshiro couldn't tell which country they came from and they all looked alike to him) with their Japanese guide, a young woman who carried on a nearly non-stop flow of patter in English. This impressed Momoshiro very much, since his own command of the English language was practically non-existent, despite his years of toil in school. The rest of the bus was filled with the usual local folk.

Nearly twenty minutes into the bus ride, Momoshiro arbitrarily decided to hop off the bus. The sky seemed to be getting bluer, the rolling green hills and fields looked too tempting to resist, and the bright sunshine beckoned to him invitingly. It was just too fine a day to spend the entire journey on a moving vehicle. Besides, didn't proper explorers journey on foot?

Momoshiro wandered along the road, drinking in the beauty that was all around him. The landscape was lush with smooth green hill upon smooth green hill, and fields in neat bands of brilliant colours were patterned across the surrounding lands, separated now and then by a wide copse of deep green, leafy trees. The sweet scents of the flowers were carried adrift by warm winds that stirred the air and travelled across the open fields, taking the fragrance into the small homes that dotted the landscape. The mountain range loomed in the lofty distance, its imposing outlines softened in the mists that shrouded its many peaks in mystery.

A curious feeling of tranquillity stole slowly into him, seeping in until it seemed to touch all the corners of his soul. His shoulders relaxed, and the tension in his frame drained out of him. Standing underneath that blue sky, surrounded for miles around by wide open spaces and incomparable beauty as far as the eye could see, Momoshiro felt as small as a grain of sand on the beach of the world. For the first time in his young life, he had a glimmer of understanding of his place in the great universe.

Momoshiro reached into a pocket for his wallet. From within the inner flap, he drew out a broken keychain, artfully made in the shape of a pink peach festooned with a couple of pale green leaves. He turned it over in the palm of his hand. The back was made of metal, which glinted a dull silver in the sunlight. The pink of the peach had faded over time and the metal links of the chain had broken; on its back, there were two characters etched into the dull silvery metal: _Tokyo_.

Momoshiro looked down at the broken keychain fondly. There were good memories tied up with this keychain. He was in his first year of senior high school then, and they had gone together to a _Tanabata _fair… him, Echizen – who was then finishing up his final year in junior high – and all the _sempai_: Tezuka, Oishi, Fuji, Eiji, Inui, Taka-_san_… There were all the usual games at a _Tanabata_ fair. Echizen had won the keychain at one of the stalls; Momoshiro had won a week's supply of cat food at another. Consequently, it had seemed perfectly reasonable to exchange their prizes.

Momoshiro drew a deep breath. The keychain had broken after years of (mis)use, and the first time it had fallen to the ground, he had picked it up and shoved it into his wallet without much thought. He had not touched it since.

He knelt down in the middle of the road. There were grooves and cracks in the mixture of asphalt, tar, cement and other ingredients that had gone into making the surface of the road. Slowly, he pushed in the little broken keychain, so that the metal peach slid into one crack, and the metal links lay quietly in another groove.

"I was here," Momoshiro said to himself, looking down at the keychain as it caught and reflected the sunlight, a tiny, barely noticeable sparkle that was like a spot of bright gold-and-silver on the road.

_And I will remember_.

Some day, he thought, he would return to this very spot. Perhaps he might bring someone along with him. The keychain would probably still be here, lying forgotten in this patch of hidden, not-very-well-travelled road.

But until then, he still had two waterfalls and an _onsen_ to get to.

* * *

Momoshiro edged his way carefully along the trail. The air was surprisingly cool; he supposed that it was due to the fact that it was deep inside the forest. Great arching branches of trees stretched overhead, forming a canopy through which the sunlight filtered and gathered in little pools of gold on the ground. There was birdsong all around, and the rustling of leaves and occasional crack of branches showed that there was other life in the forest. Momoshiro could also hear the sound of running water, which meant that there was probably a stream or two in the vicinity. He glanced at his watch. It was well past eleven, which meant that it was time for a bite – and his stomach growled loudly and hungrily in agreement. He realised, with some surprise, that he had been so drawn in by everything around him that he hadn't paid attention to his appetite in quite a while.

Momoshiro walked on, looking for a suitable rest spot. And then, quite suddenly, the trees seemed to part before him, revealing a curious little clearing. It was an unusual spot, jutting out like a narrow shelf along the rocky trail, and both below and all around was a huge profusion of vegetation and rocks, over which a stream of water ran like a mini-waterfall, leaving a small trail of wet that splashed across the rocks and leaves.

Momoshiro found himself a convenient rock to sit on and began digging into his backpack. The first thing he pulled out nearly made his eyes fall out of his head. It was an old brown leather jacket that was too small for him, and had a profusion of zipped pockets plastered all over it.

"What the…?" Momoshiro stared at it. He couldn't for the life of him remember packing this into the backpack – especially as it certainly didn't belong to him! "Probably Onoda put it in for a joke – I'll kill him when I get back," Momoshiro grumbled to himself. His team-mate Onoda Hiroshi was a dreadful jokester (though nowhere near as brilliant as one Niou Masaharu whom Momoshiro had been acquainted with during his younger days many years ago).

Momoshiro continued to dig into his backpack, getting gradually more bewildered when he couldn't find his _bento_. Nor could he find his mobile phone, his towel, etc. And _where_ in the name of all that was good and holy were the _anpan _and melon breads he had personally packed?! What were all these things – a compact umbrella of the type an _oyaji_ carried, three spare, carefully folded handkerchiefs, a broad-brimmed hat that was folded into quarters, a small notebook, a _bento_ box, a small bottle of water, and so on.

"_Argh!_"

Momoshiro sat back, mussing his hair in frustration and feeling extremely irritated. Here he was, all hungry and thirsty – and it looked as if someone had swapped everything in his bag for other things that weren't his at all! Exactly _how_ had that idiot Onoda done it?! He'd packed his bag himself and he was dead sure that Onoda had been fast asleep – the guy couldn't have gone near his bag at all!

Then a sudden thought struck Momoshiro.

_Was this _really_ his backpack?_

Momoshiro swore under his breath as he seized the backpack and stared hard at it. It was a very ordinary backpack – and that was the problem, Momoshiro realized ruefully. It was the type one could buy in any decent shop – and it could have been _any_one's. There were probably millions of people in Japan who owned a backpack exactly like this one. Now that he was looking more closely at it… where was his new peach keychain, the one he had bought just a month ago? Wasn't it supposed to be dangling from the loop in the zip fastener…?

Momoshiro delved one hand into the backpack again—and this time he pulled out a wallet that was obviously not his. His hands trembling, he flipped open the wallet. There was a driving licence in it, some money, a couple of credit cards and the usual wallet-sized photographs. There was also an amulet for protection, which looked to be several years old – the little embroidered pouch that contained it was faintly yellow with age, and the colour of the embroidery threads had faded over time, so that it showed up half-dark, half pale against the cloth .

"Ito Matsuki," Momoshiro read from the driving licence. He looked at the photograph of the ruddy-faced man on the licence. He swore again, loudly this time. He certainly didn't know who this Ito Matsuki was. –Although the photograph _did_ look vaguely familiar…

He dropped the wallet back into the backpack and began to scrabble about frantically, retrieving the leather jacket, umbrella, handkerchiefs, hat, _bento_ box, etc. that he had so unceremoniously dumped out of the backpack, and threw them into the backpack, one by one. The small notebook slipped and dropped from his hands, falling open as it hit the ground. Cursing, Momoshiro reached to slam it shut and put it back, but then a familiar name somewhere on the page caught his eye.

_Echizen Ryoma_.

Astonished, Momoshiro ran his eyes down the rest of the page. It was part of a rather detailed report on Echizen Ryoma. He sat there for a long time—he didn't know how long—reading not just that page, but the contents of that entire notebook. It was filled with a lot of information—perhaps too much information. Momoshiro read with great interest details about Echizen, his daily schedule, his diet, his coaches and medical appointments. There was similar information about several others whose names Momoshiro recognised – Yukimura Seiichi, Sanada Genichirou, Tezuka Kunimitsu, Kirihara Akaya, Ibu Shinji… the notebook had the least information about Kaidoh Kaoru, whose daily training, daily diet and so on were marked down mysteriously as 'self-preparation' with big asterisks next to the entry.

Momoshiro rubbed his nose in a perplexed sort of fashion and stifled a sigh, shaking his head. Obviously this fellow was some kind of stalker… Momoshiro thought, regretfully, that this tended to happen when one got too famous.

"Ito Matsuki," Momoshiro muttered to himself, filing away the name in his memory. He was going to call Echizen – and if the brat didn't answer, he was going to call Tezuka-_sempai_. They had to be warned about this weirdo.

But before Momoshiro could do anything, a hand suddenly appeared in front of him and snatched the notebook away.

"Hey!" Completely startled, Momoshiro looked up. "_Hey_ – it's _you_!"

It was the ruddy-faced man whose photograph was on the driving licence. Coincidentally, he was also the gentleman who had shared a seat with Momoshiro on the bus. Well, Ito Matsuki sure didn't look like one of those stalker-types and Momoshiro certainly hadn't pegged him for one when he'd sat down next to him on the bus. He had looked like any other sleepy fellow who had had to get up early in the morning to catch a (tourist) bus.

Without a word, the newcomer unslung the backpack he had been carrying and let it drop to the ground.

Momoshiro blinked. That was _his_ backpack—witness the shiny peach-shaped keychain ornamenting it. "Oh… sorry about that, by the way," Momoshiro said, remembering that he owed the owner of the backpack an apology. "I didn't mean to take your backpack. It was an accident. You know how all these backpacks look alike – there must be millions of them. I guess I wasn't really looking when I took it. Sorry!"

The man silently picked up his backpack – the one Momoshiro had been busy emptying earlier—and went rapidly through its contents.

"I haven't eaten your lunch," Momoshiro assured him, waving a hand expansively. "I haven't taken anything either. It's all there," he added, somewhat unnecessarily. "I'm an honest person!"

The man continued to ignore him.

Momoshiro, who didn't like to be ignored, suddenly remembered that this was a stalker who had too much information. Feeling somewhat worried, he cleared his throat. "… you know, it's not good to be too obsessed with things."

_Now _he had the man's attention. The man halted his movements and turned his head slowly, staring over his shoulder at Momoshiro.

Momoshiro began to feel a little unnerved, but persevered. "Look, I didn't mean to peek, but your notebook fell open… Like I said, you shouldn't be too obsessed with things. It's good to have something so important to you, but you shouldn't do harm to other people—" He choked suddenly. "_Eck—_"

The man had seized him by the collar with both hands, choking Momoshiro with a surprisingly strong grip. "_Who are you_?"

But Momoshiro was strong, too – far stronger than the man. He gripped the man's wrists with both hands and forced them away with so much might that both of them were propelled backwards, in opposite directions, by the momentum. The man staggered backwards and landed, bottom first, in the middle of a copse of bushes. Momoshiro, on the other hand, was not quite as fortunate. He found himself stumbling backwards, but _not_ on terra firma – instead, he was _stepping into empty space_ –

Everything happened in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly, he was toppling off the edge of that narrow little shelf, and into nothing. The leaves, bushes and moss that grew over the rocks gave way beneath him as he crashed past them, rolling over and over, right through the mini-waterfall/stream and down into the unknown far below. The sharp branches and twigs cut him; the rocks spared nothing as they delivered abrasion after abrasion, and ripped flesh and skin from him in small, painful handfuls and long slashes; his bones, which Nature had not built for the purpose of withstanding ceaseless pounding, held up as much as they could, but eventually gave way when faced with a particularly hard beating at the hands of the rocks.

Then his head struck something – and there was darkness.

* * *


	18. Beyond: A Tribute Part 11

© 2010 Gold

**Title**: Beyond: A Tribute

**Part Eleven**: Kizuna . Nakama

**Author: **Gold

**Disclaimer: **_Prince of Tennis _is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-_san_ or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of _Prince of Tennis _. It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-_san_ or aforesaid entities.

**Author's Notes: **I haven't been writing much - or anything at all, really - these few months. It's been a very hard time at work and I've been very worn out. I did go for a vacation recently, about 9 days (to Japan!), so physically my body feels somewhat better. I was able to dabble in writing again in odd spots. Hence this chapter! We're coming to the end of the story... I don't think we've more than a couple of chapters to go now. Let's do our best!

* * *

**Part Eleven: Kizuna . Nakama**

It was very hot. The crickets chirped incessantly, their cries loud and shrill in the humidity of the summer heat. Someone had turned on the sprinkler system so that the air sparkled with drops of water, occasionally creating a tiny rainbow for a second or two when the water caught the sunlight at a particular angle.

Saeki Kojirou shifted against a cool white pillar of the gazebo, trying to find an appropriate spot that would mould comfortably to his bones. He thought that perhaps he would suggest to Atobe that some extra cushions ought to be included _some_where. It was awfully uncomfortable without something soft for one's back.

A stone's throw away, the Jimmies and Sengoku Kiyosumi lay in peaceful slumber in the cool shade of several big trees, stretched out in a row on the grass. Their old Yamabuki school-team jackets were folded neatly under their heads, serving as makeshift pillows.

In one corner of the gazebo, Akazawa Yoshirou and Shishido Ryou were engaged in an intense session of arm-wrestling. Akazawa had come up with the idea and proceeded to challenge some of the others; Shishido was the last man left standing after a brutal round-robin. The other defeated participants were now the curious spectators: Fuji Yuuta, Kaneda Ichirou and Yanagisawa Shinya.

Mizuki Hajime was nearby, too; he had reached the gazebo first and picked the shadiest corner, where he proceeded to set up his big, dark purple rose-patterned umbrella and then sat under it. He was surrounded by several little tubes and glass bottles, and was busy slathering on sunscreen and a myriad of other skin products to protect his perfect skin from the cruel rays of the sun.

In yet another corner of the gazebo, Kamio Akira sat meditation-style on a bench, his back very upright and his legs perfectly crossed. He had put on earphones and closed his eyes; the faint sounds of a fast and furious rhythm emanated from behind the earphones.

Ishida Tetsu and Sakurai Masaya talked in low whispers from their spot not far off. Ishida kept mopping his head with a large handkerchief and Sakurai fanned himself from time to time with a makeshift paper fan.

The small, antique wooden table in the middle of the gazebo was fully occupied by two sleepyheads: Akutagawa Jirou and Mukahi Gakuto. Jirou was sprawled in his usual untidy fashion over most of the table; he snored lightly and even drooled a little as he slept. Gakuto, by contrast, was curled up rather neatly, as was his usual wont. His eyes were shut very tightly and his mouth was relaxed in sleep.

Such a motley crew.

Seigaku.

Yamabuki.

St Rudolph's.

Hyoutei.

Fudomine.

And Rikkaidai was somewhere else in the grounds, too.

It was rather funny, Saeki thought drowsily, that he still identified them by their schools, even after all these years. He supposed they did the same for him, too. Saeki Kojirou of Rokkaku.

Saeki felt his eyelids slowly sliding shut. It was _dreadfully_ hot.

"Ah… Saeki-_san_, is this seat taken…?"

Saeki fought off a yawn and bravely managed a smile. "Oh, it's you, Kawamura-_san_—please, sit down."

Kawamura Takashi sat down gingerly and adjusted his position so that he took up as little space as possible. "Um, there are so many people here," he murmured.

"Sorry…?" Saeki roused himself with a start.

"… what made them come, I wonder…?"

Saeki blinked. "Huh?"

Kawamura shook his head. "Ah, it was nothing." He settled back and looked for all the world as if he was about to nap, too.

But it was a good question that had been asked, Saeki thought. "Hmm…this sounds like a very deep question."

Now it was Kawamura's turn to blink and stare. "Eh?"

Saeki leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Well, now… why am I here, indeed?" He lapsed into thought.

Kawamura looked faintly puzzled.

Saeki ignored him. "Let's see… Syuusuke called. Then of course I had to call everyone along, too. It's not something that I could keep from them. Already Aoi's pretty sore that he can't come because he's on holiday with his family." Saeki chuckled a little. "But what about the others…? – Hey, Syuusuke's little brother!"

"_Stop_ calling me that," growled Fuji Yuuta without turning his head. "You of all people should know better."

"Sorry, Yuuta. But why are you here?"

Yuuta whipped his head around. "_What_?"

Saeki grinned disarmingly at him. "Like I said, why are you here? What's your reason? For that matter, why's Mizuki-_san_ here, and Akazawa-_san_ and all the rest of you…?"

Yuuta's brow furrowed. "Is this a trick question, Saeki-_san_?" he demanded suspiciously.

"No." Saeki held up both hands, palms facing outwards.

Yuuta relaxed. "Oh. Well, I'm here the same reason _you're_ here."

"Which is?" prodded Saeki.

Yuuta shrugged. "'Cause I wanted to." He then turned back to watch the arm-wrestling.

Saeki tilted his head and looked at Kawamura. "There you have it. Just 'cause we wanted to."

Kawamura nodded meekly. He leaned back and tried to go to sleep again, only to be interrupted by a gusty sigh from Saeki.

"Kawamura-_san_. If it were _my_ captain, I'd want badly to do something too." Saeki's brow furrowed. "For the rest of us here, it's hard to say. There's supposed to be a reason behind everything, yeah? But sometimes, we don't know what it is. It's hard to define." Saeki folded his arms behind his head. "I envy them—Tezuka and all the rest, who went abroad. They're living my dream, you know?"

Kawamura looked at him wonderingly.

Saeki's eyes were dreamy. "But maybe it's because they're living my dream that I want to be here, for them—Tezuka and Yukimura-_san_ and all the others. I imagine that they're carrying with them all my hopes and dreams in tennis. Every time I watch any of them play, I feel as if those are my dreams which are coming true. I keep thinking to myself: I know 'em, I played tennis with 'em, and I remember that we shared—share still—the same dream when it comes to tennis." Saeki flashed Kawamura a wistful smile. "It's the memories that brought us all back. We've all grown up, and some of us don't play tennis anymore. Some of us hurt ourselves and we can't play tennis any longer. Some of us just stopped playing, because life pushed us too far and we just had to stop." Saeki's shoulders rose and fell in a deep, silent sigh. "So I guess maybe one reason I'm here is because if there's anything that can be done to help keep the dream going, I want to be part of it."

Someone cleared his throat. It was Kamio Akira, who had taken the earphones from his ears.

"When Tachibana-_san_ called me, I got a huge shock." Kamio absently wound the cord of his earphones around his fingers. "I didn't know I could help. I also didn't know _how _I could help. But I didn't care. I _wanted _to help somehow. Maybe it's like Saeki-_san_ says. They're carrying our dreams out there. When Shinji plays, I _know_ he's playing for me, for Tachibana-_san_, for all of us who were his team-mates... He carries our dreams with him, 'cause we can't be there ourselves. Tezuka-_san_… he's carrying my dream, too. He's that kind of guy." Kamio pursed his lips. "Another thing… we've played with and against Seigaku for so many years... we _know_ every one of you. Tezuka-_san_'s not the kind of guy who takes drugs. I think I'd sooner believe that the sun rises in the west."

Saeki stared at Kamio. "You could hear me through all that pounding music in your ears?" he asked, a note of incredulity in his voice.

Kamio shrugged his shoulders matter-of-factly. "I have very good hearing—and I've trained my ears to shut out external sounds or to take them in, if I want to."

Saeki looked interested. "Really…?"

"Yep." Kamio nodded sagely. "Also, your voice got louder and louder, Saeki-_san_." He looked in another direction. "I think you woke some people up."

Mukahi Gakuto had sat up, his chin propped up in one hand, and he was obviously trying very hard not to yawn. Akutagawa Jirou, predictably, was still fast asleep.

"Ah—sorry, Mukahi-_san_," said Saeki apologetically.

"'S'okay," mumbled Gakuto indistinctly. "What're you talking about…?"

"Why we're here," supplied Saeki helpfully.

Gakuto yawned. "Oh. How boring." He rubbed his eyes. "We're all here 'cause we got called here. Yuushi called me, so I came. He said Atobe wanted us here. So I came."

Ishida looked up from his conversation with Sakurai. "Me too. I came because Tachibana-_san_ called." He looked apologetically at Saeki and Kawamura. "I didn't think too hard about dreams and Tezuka-_san_ and things like that. I—I do agree with what Akira said, though. I'm not really good at thinking and I'm not good with words. It's just that when Tachibana-_san_ called, I just _had _to come." He added shyly, "But of course, I'm really happy if I can be of help to Tezuka-_san_ somehow. He's a good person."

"Don't waste time talking about things like that," ordered someone brusquely. It was Shishido Ryou; he scowled as he rose from his seat, massaging his left arm a little. Akazawa, notably, was trying not to look too triumphant.

"But all the answers that have been given so far are pretty interesting, don't you think, Shishido-_san_?" Saeki asked, with a good-natured smile. "What about you?"

Shishido paused. "Me?" He shrugged his shoulders. "I just wanted to, that's all."

"That's what _I_ said," Yuuta pointed out.

"Not exclusive to you," Shishido told him.

Saeki eyed them both contemplatively, barely hiding a smile. "Ye-es… but then I could take the question further. Why did you _want_ to be here…?"

There was a dead silence.

"You talk too much like _aniki_, sometimes," Yuuta said finally, scooting away from Saeki.

Shishido, deciding that the conversation was going in a direction that he was not really interested in, started down the steps that led away from the gazebo. But Saeki's next words stopped him.

"There's just one answer, isn't there?"

Saeki continued, reflectively: "Some of us are here because our captains called us here. Some of us are here because our friends asked. And some of us are here because people important to them – like their older brothers – asked them to be here. But if you look at all the answers, there's really only one answer." Saeki's gaze drifted, thoughtfully, beyond the gazebo. "Now, why didn't I see it before?" he murmured softly. "Just _look_."

What did he see?

What he had seen before.

Seigaku.

Yamabuki.

St Rudolph's.

Hyoutei.

Fudomine.

And Rikkaidai approaching in the distance… was that Niou Masaharu, wine bottle in hand, with Jackal Kuwahara chasing after him?

Shishido Ryou cursed colourfully. "He's broken into one of Atobe's wine cellars. Is he _stupid_? He's going to have to work for Atobe _forever_ to pay that off!" He raced down the steps of the gazebo, hollering over his shoulder, "GAKUTO! Get Oshitari and tell him Rikkaidai's stolen Atobe's wine!"

Gakuto opened one eye. "_What_ the –?"

"Just do as I say!"

Grumbling, Gakuto searched his pockets for his mobile phone.

"Here, use mine." Kamio tossed him his own mobile phone.

Gakuto caught hold of it. "Thanks!" He gave Kamio a thumbs up by way of thanks, then dialled a number. While waiting for it to ring, he glanced at Yuuta. "Hey, you have Hiyoshi's number, right?"

Yuuta blinked. "Er – I think so, but I haven't called him in years."

"Yeah, well, he's not the kind of guy to change his number. Can you call him and Ohtori? Tell them I said we've a problem – oi, Yuushi, what took you so long?"

Yuuta stared as Gakuto turned away, talking to Oshitari Yuushi.

"Are you going to call Hiyoshi-_kun_?" Saeki asked with interest.

"Of course," muttered Yuuta, pulling out his mobile phone.

"Why?" prodded Saeki.

Yuuta just stared at him as if he were crazy, and rolled his eyes. "'Cause I want to, okay? – Ah, Hiyoshi? It's Fuji. Yes. Is Ohtoriwith you? Good. Mukahi-_san_ told me to tell you that there's a problem here. What? Oh, Rikkaidai just stole some of Atobe-_san_'s wine." Yuuta winced and held his mobile phone away from his ear. "Well, how should I know? It just happened! We're in the gazebo. Which one? I don't know! There's a huge bunch of oak trees on my left. – Yes, we're east of the clock tower."

In the distance, Shishido had just reached Niou Masaharu and was engaged in a titanic struggle for the wine bottle. Jackal could be seen waving his arms wildly as he tried to stop them. Marui Bunta popped up, seemingly out of nowhere, and appeared to be alternately trying to grab the wine bottle and "assist" Shishido and Niou, depending on which one appeared to be having the advantage at that particular point in time.

In the copse of trees nearby, Sengoku Kiyosumi stirred. He opened one eye. Then he slowly sat up, blinking as he took in the little tableau before him, wine bottle and all. With a little grin, he rose to his feet carefully, so as not to disturb the still-slumbering Jimmies. Affecting a casual gait, he strolled towards the escalating fracas.

From another direction, a figure vaguely recognizable as Hiyoshi Wakashi was heading for the little fight at a fast clip. Even at that distance, one could make out the furious look on his face.

Gakuto, having ended his conversation with Oshitari, glanced over at what was happening. "Urk."

Saeki was grinning. "It's all right. The calvary's here."

Sure enough, there was a little golf buggy approaching at top speed. It stopped about ten metres from the altercation, and deposited two very tall figures: Oshitari Yuushi and Yanagi Renji. Oshitari grabbed Shishido. Yanagi said something. Niou halted his movements and Marui edged a little away. Jackal heaved a sigh – of relief, likely.

"Fight's over," announced Gakuto. He returned Kamio the mobile phone. "Thanks again, Kamio-_san_."

"Don't mention it." Kamio pocketed his mobile phone. "I think Oshitari-_san_'s beckoning to us. I guess they've finished their meeting with Atobe-_san_."

"About time they told us what's going on," agreed Yuuta, getting up. "I didn't cut classes just to have a good lunch at Atobe-_san_'s expense. Hope they've got some concrete ideas in mind."

Kawamura, who was preparing to stand up, too, paused for a moment. "Saeki-_san_?"

"Hmm?"

"I think I know the answer."

Saeki smiled at him. "Did you look?"

Kawamura nodded. "Yes."

Saeki grinned. "What did you see?"

"Shishido-_san_ and Niou-_san_ fighting over a bottle of wine."

"And?"

"Kamio -_san_ lent Mukahi-_san_ his mobile phone so that Mukahi-_san_ could call Oshitari-_san_."

"And?"

"Mukahi-_san_ asked Fuji Yuuta-_san_ to call Hiyoshi-_san_ and Ohtori-_san_."

"Go on."

"Sengoku-_san_ wanted the wine, too."

Saeki chuckled.

"Oshitari-_san_ and Yanagi-_san_… turning up together."

Saeki amiably clapped Kawamura on the shoulder. "You _did_ look."

The beginnings of a smile edged Kawamura's lips and his eyes crinkled with laughter. "I saw."

What was it someone had said before?

_Just look_.

Seigaku.

Yamabuki.

St Rudolph's.

Hyoutei.

Fudomine.

Rikkaidai.

Their paths had crossed before, years ago, when they were just simple schoolboys, sharing a deep and abiding love for the game they all played. They had common dreams and common aspirations, and their hearts were filled with hope, anchored by the belief that they could do anything – anything at all, so long as they strived for it. For they knew, in the wisdom of their youth, that the journey would be worth every drop of blood, sweat and tears they had to shed. They had destiny on their side. They had friends who shouldered the load with them, laughed with them, and chased the same hopes and dreams with them.

But they could only be schoolboys once.

As they took their first real steps in the world, it demanded something else from them. They found themselves turning their feet towards paths that they thought they had to take, and in their haste, the dreams and aspirations they once shared seemed but distant memories, and they quietly left their old hopes and dreams in the past. It was enough that destiny had given them their day in the sun, and perhaps this was what it meant to grow up: they had to move on.

Until now, when voices from the past called to them, and tugged at the invisible bonds buried deep in their hearts.

_Do you… do you remember?_

_Do you remember the fun we had?_

_Do you remember the times we shared?_

_Do you remember that we said we would always be friends?_

_Do you remember that we promised we would always stand by one another?_

_Do you remember… our dream of tennis?_

They remembered. They understood. They came, because they _wanted_ to.

_Kizuna._

Invisible bonds that linked them, stretching back to a time long past, but never forgotten, bonds forged, perhaps, by the most amazing of coincidences.

_Nakama._

Companions. Brothers-in-arms.

Hand in hand, heart to heart.

_This_ was the answer.


	19. Beyond: A Tribute Part 12

© 2010 Gold

**Title**: Beyond: A Tribute

**Part Twelve**

**Author: **Gold

**Disclaimer: **_Prince of Tennis _is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-san or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of _Prince of Tennis _. It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-san or aforesaid entities.

**Author's Notes**:

1. "Puremia" is pronounced Pooh-ree-me-ah. I derived it from the word "premier".

2. I pinched an oft-quoted line from Robert Burns' _To A Mouse_. Thank you, sir.

3. Mixi and Twitter are kind of similar in purpose. Mixi, however, is limited to people within Japan (you need a Japanese mobile phone on a Japanese network). Twitter is not limited to people within Japan.

4. "Yudan sezu ni ikou." - _Tezuka Kunimitsu. _There is some debate about the precise translation of these words, taking into consideration factors such as the meaning and placement of the kanji and hiragana used, Tezuka's character, the context of the situations in which Tezuka has said this or some variation of it, etc. Essentially it seems to mean "Onward, and do not be careless!"

* * *

**Part Twelve **

Lest this be forgotten by the wider public, let it be recorded here and now that there were many, who though neither kith nor kin of Tezuka Kunimitsu, stood by him through the entire matter. Their original intentions were very simple; all they wanted was to assure him of their steadfast support, and they wanted to do it with the least possible fanfare and the greatest possible impact. Extreme caution was also necessary, as they did not want their actions to affect him in some way, however unintended. In a way, one might say they had adopted the persona of their idol as their club mantra. _Yudan sezu ni ikou.  
_

But the best laid schemes of mice and men gang aft agley, and they were eventually forced by circumstances into a position that left them with little choice but to take certain concrete steps.

This is how it happened.

Immediately following the shocking announcement from the world governing body for men's professional tennis that Tezuka Kunimitsu had tested positive for the banned blood-boosting substance jetoxil (JTX), a vacuum opened up. Tezuka's management was silent; Tezuka himself also seemed to be holding his tongue. It left space for speculation to grow and rumours to spread, as people debated the fall of one of tennis' brightest stars.

Was Tezuka really innocent? After all, how could he have risen to the top rankings in such a short space of time? Of course there had been other precedents before him – he was not the first tennis player to have made such a splash within a few years of his debut on the pro tennis circuits. But it was universally agreed that the test procedure, although not completely foolproof (perfection is not found in mankind) had been conducted both fairly and stringently. Contamination was practically impossible. Was Tezuka _really_ guilty, then?

_Tezuka Kunimitsu is probably guilty. A lot of sportsmen later get exposed for taking drugs. His management probably didn't even know. Maybe he got it from someone else in the pro tennis _[sic]_. Tell Tezuka to give us the truth. But this is just my personal opinion._

Why had Tezuka Kunimitsu held a press conference by himself (and financed from his own pocket, mind you), with only the support of his fellow Japanese professional players? Was he truly to be believed? What evidence did he have, apart from his own word? Furthermore, his management agency had been nowhere in sight. Had Tezuka fallen out so badly with his management agency that they were willing to neglect their professional duties? – Or did his management know something that the rest of the world did not? What was going on?

_Does Tezuka Kunimitsu really think that people should believe him? There's no evidence that he's innocent. He's just denying it. Anybody can deny something like that. Maybe his management knows something we don't. But this is just my personal opinion. _

The reactions on the pro circuits were fairly predictable. Already some of the players on the tour had made snide comments, whilst others expressed their disbelief at the news. Yet others preferred to sit on the fence, taking the position that they preferred to hear Tezuka's defence of himself – and cautioning at the same time that ATMP's testing procedures stringently adhered to World Anti-Doping Agency guidelines. Media outlets devoted themselves to running a range of editorials that ran the gamut from the supportive to the objective (running plenty of articles about the fall of other gods with feet of clay and the use of banned stimulants in sports) to simply mourning the fall of another much-admired athlete to drugs yet again.

_I heard Tezuka Kunimitsu's getting lawyers now. If he's really innocent, he won't need lawyers. But this is just my personal opinion. _

There were a _lot_ of people with "personal opinions".

It was true that Tezuka had one of the finest reputations in the sports world, both as a person and an athlete, and the number of people who genuinely believed in Tezuka's innocence vastly outnumbered the naysayers – but it was the naysayers' voices that were the most troubling.

The truth is that when it comes to positive test results for drugs, the practical reality is that the onus remains on the person who tested positive to prove his innocence. In short, one is _guilty unless proven innocent_. And it had to be admitted that there really was no evidence at hand – at that time – to prove Tezuka's innocence.

So Tezuka, far away in America, was fighting an impossible battle.

But back home in Japan, unbeknownst to him, another confrontation was brewing.

The Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club was based in Japan; membership was only for residents in Japan. It went by the cheerful short form _Tez'ka Japan_, a moniker that hadn't met much approval when it had first been mooted, but which stuck anyway (which is the way things often happen).

When the scandal erupted, one of the many things that Tez'ka Japan did was to try, repeatedly, to get in touch with their official club contacts at Tezuka's management, Puremia Management Co., Ltd. However, their official liaisons at Puremia – Mr. Sato Naoya, Ms. Nakamura Hitomi and Mr. Tanaka Keisuke – did not respond to the enquiries. Emails to Puremia went unanswered; telephone calls were picked up by an answering machine which perpetually apologised for being full (please try again later). It is fair to say that there were moments when Tez'ka Japan treaded a very fine line between admirable persistence and outright harassment. At any rate, despite all concerted efforts to contact Puremia, Tez'ka Japan found themselves effectively slamming their collective heads against a big, blank wall of silence.

Late on Tuesday night (Tokyo time), all attention was focused on Tezuka's hastily-called press conference. Tezuka delivered his short, terse speech that would be the subject of many an editorial within the next few days; the Japanese tennis professionals sat united in grim silence; and Puremia was starkly conspicuous by its absence from the press conference. All this simply served to ensure that the intensity of online discussions (and the anxiety of Tezuka's worried supporters) rocketed to the extent that it approached borderline hysteria. The executive committee of Tez'ka Japan realized that a personal visit to the office of Puremia could not be avoided, since they hadn't been able to get any replies by other means. The idea met with absolutely overwhelming support on the official discussion forums of Tez'ka Japan:

_What time will you be there? I would like to come along._

_I want to give my support. I helped to make one hundred and twenty support-Tezuka-Kunimitsu-ribbons this afternoon, but I want to do something else, too._

_They can't turn us away when they see so many of us!_ _Let's all go!__  
_

_I am so worried about Tezuka-san. Can I visit Puremia tomorrow, too?_

_It's summer holidays now, so I don't have to be in school. My whole family supports Tezuka-san. Can we all come along for the visit tomorrow? There are my grandfather, my parents, my two younger brothers, my pet goldfish…_

_My grandmother says she would like to go for the visit tomorrow. She's in a wheelchair, but I can push her along._

Eventually, after much frantic discussion, it was agreed that rather than having a small army land on the doorstep of Puremia, the visiting delegation would consist exclusively of the executive committee, who would make the visit on their own and carry the hopes of the supporters with them. In return, everyone would be kept apprised of the developments of the visit in real time on Mixi and Twitter …

* * *

Tez'kaJapan:

_Exco reporting for duty! Everyone's here. We're going to the Puremia office now._

[Tweeted at 8.45 a.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

**Tez'kaJapan: **

_Just arrived at Puremia. Office is open for business._

[Tweeted at 9.15 a.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

**Tez'kaJapan: **

_Spoke to receptionist Hanada Keiko-san. Asked to speak to our official club __liaisons_ _at the management._

[Tweeted at 9.22 a.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

**Tez'kaJapan: **

_We've just been told that our official __liaisons are not working here any longer! _

[Tweeted at 9.30 a.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

**Tez'kaJapan: **

_Sato-san is outstation until the end of next year! _

[Tweeted at 9.40 a.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

**Tez'kaJapan: **

_Nakamura-san is no longer working here! She married?_

[Tweeted at 9.42 a.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

**Tez'kaJapan: **

_Tanaka-san transferred to another office 2 months ago! _

[Tweeted at 9.43 a.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

**Tez'kaJapan: **

_Puremia has not yet assigned new club __liaisons. We no longer have any official liaisons_ _at Puremia!_

[Tweeted at 10.18 a.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

**Tez'kaJapan: **

_We're still waiting – hopefully they'll let us speak to someone who can help us._

[Tweeted at 11.00 a.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

**Tez'kaJapan: **

_We've been here two hours. Everyone, let's be patient._

[Tweeted at 11.21 a.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

**Tez'kaJapan: **

_They've just told us to leave. Puremia will not be answering any questions about Tezuka-san._

[Tweeted at 11.43 a.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

**Tez'kaJapan: **

_Puremia says that they cannot say anything because they do not wish to add more confusion to Tezuka-san's matter._

[Tweeted at 11.44 a.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

**Tez'kaJapan: **

_We just held a quick meeting. We'll wait outside. Maybe we might meet an office staff and then we'll try and ask for help. Misako and Koichi will take the first shift outside Puremia, beginning now. _

[Tweeted at 12.01 p.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

**Tez'kaJapan: **

_This is Maruyama Koichi, your vice-president. We hope to be able to talk to one of the staff members when they're leaving the office._

[Tweeted at 12.03 p.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

**Tez'kaJapan: **

_This is Shimizu Misako, club secretary. We'll keep you updated on our progress. Everyone, let's do our best!_

[Tweeted at 12.05 p.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

Online, the real-time updates spread swiftly across the wider Internet community, thanks in large part due to supporters from across the world, who weighed in. Tweets, Mixi updates and forum posts were translated by friendly Tez'ka Japan members into English, German, Mandarin, Korean and several other languages, and quickly passed on to supporters outside Japan. The information ended up almost instantaneously on numerous discussion forums in other countries, which added their own take on it, and was in turn spotted by other forums and media outlets that picked up on the news, and so on down the line.

Meanwhile, the executive committee of Tez'ka Japan posted a full report on the official Tez'ka Japan website. The thread of discussion that was created quickly generated close to a thousand replies, before it was suddenly inaccessible to forum users, within an hour after it had been first put up. Forum users received a "technical error" message when they tried to post replies. Attempts to begin new threads of discussion regarding the matter also faced "technical error" messages. Eventually, a notice was placed on the main page of the official discussion forums:

_The server is currently experiencing downtime due to technical errors. We are working to determine the source of the technical errors. We will inform you once the server has been repaired. _

_

* * *

_**Tez'kaJapan: **

_Everyone, due to events beyond our control, we are shifting our official supporters' discussions to the new website: We Support Tezuka Kunimitsu. _

[Tweeted at 4.00 p.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

**Tez'kaJapan: **

_Official supporters, please sign up for accounts with your official membership details. _

[Tweeted at 4.02 p.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

**Tez'kaJapan: **

_Supporters who are not official members are welcome to sign up. Please indicate non-official member ship when you join._

[Tweeted at 4.03 p.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

In the meantime, Tez'ka Japan's vice-president Maruyama Koichi and secretary Shimizu Misako reported no success from their stalking mission outside the Puremia office.

* * *

**Tez'kaJapan: **

_Everyone, we are holding an online meeting tomorrow morning at We Support Tezuka Kunimitsu. _

_Time: 9.00 a.m. – 12 noon Tokyo time._

_Venues: Chatroom #1 and #2 for Tez'ka Japan members. Chatroom #4, #5, #6 and #7 for non-members. _

[Tweeted at 4.30 p.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

**Tez'kaJapan: **

_Please confirm attendance in the '29 July Meeting' thread, at least 1 hour before the meeting. _

_Our online meeting rules apply: chatroom access will only be granted to those of you who have confirmed attendance._

[Tweeted at 4.32 p.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

**Tez'kaJapan: **

_Everyone, tomorrow's meeting in Chatrooms #1 and #2 will be held in Japanese._

_Meeting in Chatroom #4 will be held in German._

_Meeting in Chatrooms #5 and #6 will be held in English. _

_Meeting in Chatroom #7 will be held in Mandarin._

[Tweeted at 5.03 p.m., Tokyo time, 28 July 2010]

* * *

_29 July 2010_

_12.30 a.m. Cincinnati_

_1.30 p.m. Tokyo_

**We Support Tezuka Kunimitsu Forum**

**Announcement: Videos of Tezuka Kunimitsu's tennis history – spread the word!**

We have set up a new section in our website: "Tezuka Kunimitsu's Perfect Tennis". This section contains all the fan videos of Tezuka Kunimitsu playing tennis, taken by supporters over the years. The Seishun Gakuen (International) Tennis Fanclub has kindly provided us with 185 short video clips of Tezuka Kunimitsu playing tennis matches during his junior high school days and senior high school days. You can view the videos in the new section. Downloads are expressly permitted. Please remember to credit the source of the videos accordingly.

Our purpose is to show the world that Tezuka-_san_'s tennis calibre is of the very highest quality, and has been so since he was a child. Anyone who has watched his tennis matches over the years will immediately see that Tezuka Kunimitsu could never have taken illegal performance boosters, firstly because it is not in his character to do such a demeaning thing, and secondly because there is absolutely no need for him to. Perfection needs no more. Please spread the word and spread the videos to as many people as you can. We want the world to know this!

If you have videos of Tezuka Kunimitsu's tennis history and would like to add them to our current collection, please contact the executive committee of Tez'ka Japan.

* * *

_Thursday, 29 July 2010_

_2.21 a.m. Cincinnati_

_3.21 p.m. Tokyo_

**Unidentified online search engine – Sports Section**

**News Update**

The Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club released a statement early this afternoon, demanding an explanation from Puremia Management Co., Ltd., which manages Tezuka Kunimitsu-_san_.

In the statement, the Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club voiced concern on Puremia's silence on the matter so far and their absence from Tezuka Kunimitsu's press conference. The club also disclosed details of its attempts to reach Tezuka-_san_'s management. It appears that the executive committee of the Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club, having received no response to earlier queries made to Puremia, paid a visit to Puremia's office in Shibuya yesterday. However, they were told that Puremia would not be speaking to anyone on matters relating to Tezuka Kunimitsu. They also received the news, for the first time, that Puremia no longer maintains official liaisons responsible for handling relations with the club.

The Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club has in its statement asked Puremia to break its silence to provide information to the public on the matter, so as to help counter rumours and re-assure Tezuka Kunimitsu's supporters that he is receiving the best assistance possible from Puremia.

* * *

_Thursday, 29 July 2010_

_3.15 a.m. Cincinnati_

_4.15 p.m. Tokyo_

**Statement released by Puremia Management Co., Ltd.**

We are unable to accede to the demand of the Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club. Any comment on our part will merely add confusion to the matters relating to Tezuka Kunimitsu-_san_ and will not be in the best interests of Tezuka-_san_.

As an official supporters' club, it should have patience and refrain from muddying the waters further.

* * *

_29 July 2010_

_3.43 a.m. Cincinnati_

_4.43 p.m. Tokyo_

**We Support Tezuka Kunimitsu Forum**

**Important Announcement from the Executive Committee of the Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club: PLEASE READ IMMEDIATELY**

All the members of the executive committee have received official emails from Puremia Management. The emails state that their memberships are terminated with immediate effect. No reason is given, except that "Puremia Management Co., Ltd. reserves the right to refuse access or terminate a membership… at any time, without notification."

Official members, please check your email accounts urgently as this is of utmost importance. We must find out whether this is limited to the executive committee only, or if other memberships have been terminated.

If you have had your official memberships terminated by Puremia, please let us know immediately by replying to this announcement. Please include a copy of the email sent by Puremia.

* * *

_29 July 2010_

_7.00 a.m. Cincinnati_

_8.00 p.m. Tokyo_

**Pro Sports Japan – Tennis Section**

**Special Report by Yamada Ryuichirou**

The official supporters' club of tennis player Kunimitsu Tezuka has publicly severed all ties with Puremia Management Co., Ltd. and its affiliates. Puremia Management Co., Ltd. is the management company responsible for handling the affairs of Tezuka and many Japanese professional tennis players, including top names such as Ryoma Echizen. Their management of the matter has been called into question in recent days, especially in the wake of the press conference that Tezuka held on Tuesday.

The statement, released earlier this evening by the Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club to media outlets, was signed off by the executive committee of the Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club.

"_We refer to our statement to Puremia Management Co., Ltd. this afternoon. Puremia has given us their reply. They have terminated with immediate effect the memberships of the entire executive committee of the Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club. _

"_Enough is enough. The Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club is severing all ties with Puremia with immediate effect. Executive committee members will continue to lead the Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club._

"_Our purpose is to support Tezuka Kunimitsu. We believe in him and we believe that he is innocent. We will not stand by idly, while Puremia does nothing to support Tezuka Kunimitsu._

_"As of this afternoon, the Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club has experienced difficulty accessing their own official website. We will not waste time speculating on the reasons behind this. All discussions and club business is officially shifted to the We Support Tezuka Kunimitsu website, which we have set up by ourselves._

"_We would like to make it clear that this is our response to Puremia's actions against the Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club and Puremia's lack of assistance towards Tezuka Kunimitsu. We strongly feel that Tezuka Kunimitsu would be better off with a new management. He deserves much better than this management, which does nothing but hides its head in the sand." _

Apart from this sudden breakaway, the supporters of Tezuka Kunimitsu have also started a second campaign via the Internet. Supporters have provided several hundred hours of video footage of Tezuka's matches, some of them going as far back as the time when he was a child. The video clips show parts of the matches he played in primary school, junior high school and senior high school, when he was the captain of the boys' tennis teams of Seishun Gakuen (Junior High Division and Senior High Division). The website now boasts almost 400 video clips. Many of these clips have been widely re-posted online, and can be seen on Mixi, weblogs, discussion forums and other websites.

Maruyama Koichi, the vice-president of the Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club whose membership was terminated by Puremia, explained seriously: "We definitely did not foresee this happening. We have been very cautious because this is a very sensitive issue and we thought that Tezuka-_san _was in the hands of professional management. However, we have had no choice because of Puremia's actions.

"It is not just the supporters in Japan who are disappointed and angry with Puremia. Tezuka-_san_ is extremely popular abroad and many of his supporters all over the world have come forward to support our actions and they are extremely upset with what has been happening - or not, as the case may be. It's quite clear that Puremia sacked the executive committee simply because we have been doing our job and they have not.

"Please note that all our decisions have been taken without Tezuka-_san_'s input or knowledge. We want to make that very clear so that there is no misunderstanding. Puremia has not been fair to Tezuka Kunimitsu. We support Tezuka-_san_ and it's time we speak out and stand up for him. That's all that we can do for him."

In response, Puremia Management Co., Ltd. spokesman Ito Kyousuke said: "This is an attack without any justification. Tezuka-_san _should tell his supporters to stop such actions, which do not have his interests at heart. The _former_ executive committee of the Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club does not have any authority and members should not listen to them. The members don't understand the real facts of the matter. Furthermore, they do not have experience in such matters and will only make things worse. Many libellous things have been said about Puremia Management Co., Ltd. We will take all necessary action, including legal action, against those responsible."

* * *

_29 July 2010_

_8.00 a.m. Cincinnati_

_9.00 p.m. Tokyo_

**Unidentified search engine online**

**News – Tennis Section – Official Supporters of Kunimitsu Tezuka Mount **_**Coup d'état**_

_**12 minutes ago**_

In what amounts to a coup d'état, the official supporters' club of tennis player Kunimitsu Tezuka has publicly severed all ties with Puremia Management Co., Ltd. and its affiliates. Puremia Management Co., Ltd. is the management company responsible for handling the affairs of Tezuka and many Japanese professional tennis players, including top names such as Ryoma Echizen. Their management of the matter has been called into question in recent days, especially in the wake of the press conference that Tezuka held on Tuesday.

A statement, released early this morning by the Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club, was signed off by the executive committee of the Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club.

"_Puremia has … terminated with immediate effect the memberships of the entire executive committee of the Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club. Enough is enough._

"_The Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club is severing all ties with Puremia with immediate effect. Executive committee members will continue to lead the Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club."_

Puremia has threatened to take legal action in response.

* * *

_Coup d'état_?

Ha!

Puremia had removed the executive committee of the Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club by the simple expedient of terminating their membership. It was a master stroke, since it was the only way that they could remove the executive committee.

As a gesture, it was petty by nature, but hugely significant in meaning.

The executive committee had been created nearly two years ago, with very specific functions in mind. They existed to organise events and maintain harmony within Tez'ka Japan, acted as the bridge of communication and concern between Tezuka Kunimitsu and Tez'ka Japan, and served as the conduit between Puremia and Tez'ka Japan.

By sacking the executive committee of Tez'ka Japan, Puremia had destroyed the links between themselves as the management, Tezuka Kunimitsu and Tezuka's supporters.

_Coup d'état_?

Yes, there had been one.

And the Tezuka Kunimitsu Official Supporters' Club would have been damned if they had let Puremia get away with it.

_Yudan sezu ni ikou._


	20. Beyond: A Tribute Part 13

© 2010 Gold

**Title**: Beyond: A Tribute

**Part Thirteen**

**Author**: Gold

**Disclaimer**: Prince of Tennis is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-san or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of Prince of Tennis . It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-san or aforesaid entities.

* * *

**Part Thirteen**

It was almost five-thirty in the morning.

The room was quiet and purposefully dim; the heavy curtains were fully drawn across the windows and the only light came from the reading lamp behind the sofa, which lent a soft golden glow to the room.

Tezuka Kunimitsu was stretched out full length across the sofa, head serenely pillowed on one sofa arm. His long legs were folded over the other arm of the sofa; otherwise he looked very comfortable, as if he was used to sleeping on couches and the like. His eyes were closed in slumber and his breathing was deep and even; a pair of glasses lay on the glass-topped coffee table nearby.

Someone knocked on the door; a few tentative but unmistakable raps across the wooden surface.

Tezuka's eyes fluttered open slowly, and the light in his irises grew to a sharp brilliance as his mind, too, awoke.

"Come in," he ordered in a low voice. His door was never locked.

Kaidoh Kaoru poked his head and shoulders round the door, but the latter half of his body remained outside, hidden by the half-open door. "Tezuka-_sempai_."

Tezuka, his glasses set firmly on his nose, looked at the newcomer. "Ah. Kaidoh."

Kaidoh ducked his head apologetically. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you, _sempai_. Should I come back later?"

"No, it's all right. Come in."

Kaidoh quietly slid into the room and closed the door noiselessly behind him. He leaned back against the closed door and examined the carpet carefully for a few seconds before glancing up at Tezuka.

Tezuka waited.

"Tezuka-_sempai_… " Kaidoh cleared his throat. He hesitated, searching for the right words. "It's about Echizen."

Tezuka looked faintly surprised.

"Do you think that you could talk to him…?"

Tezuka did not reply.

"I feel worried about him, _sempai_," Kaidoh said slowly, choosing his words with care. "It has to do with the many things that have happened lately."

Tezuka gave a brief nod.

"These things..." Kaidoh paused, and then continued: "I think all this may have affected Echizen a lot. Maybe more than the rest of us, in some ways." Kaidoh's brows were furrowed. "First, there was you, _sempai_. Echizen is closer to you than he is to the rest of us. You have been his mentor for so long – even if you don't acknowledge it openly, _sempai_, everyone knows that you've helped Echizen more than anyone."

Tezuka listened quietly.

"Then Momoshiro disappeared." Kaidoh rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully, his frown becoming more pronounced. "Echizen was always close to Momoshiro, and I think that's still true, even if they don't walk the same path now, and even though they don't talk much anymore."

That was true.

"Tezuka-_sempai_, as if that's not enough trouble, there are all these _other_ things happening, things that are hard to believe, but which have happened—" Kaidoh swallowed hard. "Even I feel peculiar, _sempai_, because nothing seems to be right. I don't understand what is happening and I don't know why it's happening. I feel… lost." His shoulders slumped unhappily.

Tezuka inclined his head. "And if you feel lost, what more Echizen…?"

Kaidoh looked up, grateful that Tezuka had understood. "It's all right for me, _sempai_. I think I understand a little why things like that can happen. But if you can talk to Echizen… it would be good. I've been sitting up with him. He won't sleep… and he doesn't say anything. I think it might help if you went to see him."

"You may be underestimating yourself, Kaidoh."

Kaidoh shook his head. "It's not that, _sempai_."

"I see," Tezuka said softly. "I apologise for this, Kaidoh."

Kaidoh shook his head fiercely. "_Sempai_, it's not your fault. None of it is," he protested.

"All the same, I am at its centre… and I feel responsible." Tezuka rose to his feet. "A moment, Kaidoh." He crossed the room in a few swift steps and lifted the jacket that was hanging neatly over the end of the bed, shrugging it on. "Come." Tezuka turned to Kaidoh. "Let's go."

Kaidoh exhaled with relief and stepped aside to let Tezuka pass.

Echizen's room was two doors away and the door to his room was ajar, allowing a chink of light to filter out and into the corridor.

When Tezuka stepped in, with Kaidoh close behind him, he saw that Echizen was lying on his back on the bed, the bedcovers half-flung off the bed, and his hands were locked behind his head. His eyes were wide open, and fixed blankly on the ceiling. They flickered away to look briefly at Tezuka and Kaidoh before returning to their fascination with the ceiling overhead.

Kaidoh opened his mouth to say something, but Tezuka motioned for him to remain silent.

Tezuka regarded Echizen's still form for perhaps a full minute.

Echizen did not move.

Kaidoh glanced anxiously at Tezuka.

Tezuka's gaze shifted slightly to the ceiling. Then he looked back at Echizen.

Still Echizen did not move.

The clock ticked the minutes and seconds away.

Five minutes.

Eight minutes.

Kaidoh was beginning to get more than a little anxious. He glanced at Tezuka, seeking some sort of clue, but the latter's face was expressionless. Tezuka seemed simply intent on observing Echizen.

Another two minutes passed.

Then Tezuka spoke.

"That was the worst match I have ever seen, Echizen."

Kaidoh happened to be looking at Echizen just as Tezuka said that, and to his astonishment, he thought he saw Echizen twitch a little.

"Emmelmann is an excellent player."

Kaidoh blinked, puzzled. Tezuka was talking about… the match Echizen had lost? In the Cincinnati Masters? What…?

Tezuka went on:

"But you have no excuse."

Silence.

"Do you know why?" Tezuka's voice was calm, but stern.

Echizen closed his eyes.

Five whole minutes went by.

Kaidoh stopped holding his breath.

Then –

"Maybe."

Kaidoh's eyes widened. Had Echizen just… _spoken_? He looked quickly at the bed. –Echizen's eyes were still closed.

Tezuka's voice was matter-of-fact. "Then it will happen again."

A longer silence this time.

Kaidoh was getting used to the long pauses now. Evidently Echizen's brain was working – the processes were a little slower than normal, but at least he was responding to Tezuka.

"No, it won't." Echizen's voice echoed in the room, a little stronger this time.

"_Aa_." Tezuka looked impassive. "So you do know why."

Echizen fidgeted in bed, but kept quiet.

"…yes." It was a soft mutter, but it reached Kaidoh's ears clearly nonetheless.

Tezuka's gaze skimmed the bed, Echizen, and finally rested on the ceiling. "Are you done re-playing the match in your head?" His gaze travelled back down to Echizen.

This time, Echizen's reaction was almost immediate.

"…_sempai_." Echizen sounded indignant. "I'm _winning_ the match in my head."

Tezuka's lips quirked faintly.

Kaidoh, looking from Echizen to Tezuka, let out a deep breath of relief.

Echizen opened both his eyes. "It _won't_ happen again." He slanted his gaze towards Tezuka and Kaidoh. "I'm okay. I should've known better."

Tezuka nodded slowly. "Momoshiro would have said the same thing."

Echizen grimaced a little. "Yeah," he said quietly.

"It's hard not to worry," Tezuka said. "I know that."

Echizen blinked.

"Sleep, Echizen," Tezuka told him gently. "Regardless of everything that has happened, you have to get some rest. Kaidoh says that you have not slept for a long time."

Echizen cocked his head to one side, looking at Kaidoh, who cleared his throat and looked away. Echizen's eyes flickered from Tezuka to Kaidoh. "You too, _sempai_."

Kaidoh said gruffly, "We're fine. It's already past six, anyway."

It was time to rise and shine, going by his daily routine.

Echizen asked absently, "What time are you meeting the lawyers, _sempai_?"

"Eight," Tezuka answered.

Echizen pursed his lips. "_Sempai_…"

"Hm?"

"What happens next?" Echizen's gaze was troubled.

Tezuka said nothing.

"The tests were _positive_," Echizen pointed out. "It's strict liability, _sempai_ – even if it's not your fault, they will penalise you."

Kaidoh frowned. "Echizen—"

Tezuka stopped him. "It's fine, Kaidoh." He turned to Echizen. "Sometimes, some things cannot be helped." Tezuka's voice was gentle.

"It wasn't your fault," Echizen said, looking mutinous. "You shouldn't have to face a hearing."

Tezuka's voice was firm. "I will discuss with the lawyers accordingly and make a decision. Don't think about it anymore, Echizen. Concentrate on getting some sleep."

Echizen didn't look happy, but he also knew better than to argue with Tezuka at that point. "Well, if you're meeting them at eight, then there's still time for a nap, _sempai_." He pointed to the leather sofa in the corner of the room. "You can sleep there. I've got space."

Tezuka inclined his head. "Thank you, Echizen, but I have some things to look through before the meeting later." He glanced at Kaidoh. "Kaidoh will stay with you."

Kaidoh nodded.

Echizen shrugged. "Okay. You're looking tired, though. You'd better get some sleep before Atobe comes knocking on your door again."

Tezuka merely nodded.

"And… Tezuka-_buchou_."

Tezuka lifted an eyebrow.

"Fight_-o_."

Tezuka allowed himself a very faint smile. "Thank you, Echizen."


	21. Beyond: A Tribute Part 14

Part Fourteen: Never Easy Part 1

© 2010 Gold

**Title**: Beyond: A Tribute

**Part Fourteen**

**Author**: Gold

**Disclaimer**: Prince of Tennis is created by Konomi Takeshi. This work is a piece of fanfiction and no part of it is attributed to Konomi-san or any other entity holding any legal right associated with and arising out of Prince of Tennis . It was written purely out of fanservice and it is not to be used for profit or any false association with Konomi-san or aforesaid entities.

**Author's note: **There is a Morton's The Steakhouse in Cincinnati.

* * *

**Part Fourteen**

It was never going to be easy.

Tezuka Kunimitsu woke at half-past seven in the morning to the news that while he was sleeping, his official supporters' club had apparently declared open rebellion against his management, and he was being bombarded with requests for comments, accusations of having orchestrated it somehow, and demands as to whether he really, truly, had split from his management – because certainly all signs pointed to it.

It made for an absolutely fabulous start to the day.

"Don't get drawn into this," Atobe Keigo warned him. "We don't have the time. In any event, your supporters know what they're doing – let them handle their issues with the management." _We have other priorities. _

"Keep me updated," Tezuka answered coolly. "I'll leave the issue alone for the moment – but I want it to be played down as much as possible. It's only a news item because of me."

Atobe nodded in agreement, but followed up with a sharp look. "Taking control?"

Tezuka met the look unflinchingly. "I let things go on for too long."

Atobe chuckled. "Well said, Tezuka. I look forward to our continuing... partnership."

Things moved on from thence at breakneck speed.

By nine a.m., the Association of Men's Tennis Professionals had announced a panel to hear Tezuka Kunimitsu's case. The hearing was scheduled to take place the following Tuesday, behind closed doors.

The pressure was on. To underestimate the issues facing them would have been fatal. But the enormity of what they had set out to do did not properly sink in, at least not until they were confronted with the ten thousand and one demands from the lawyers, auditors and the media and public relations people. If all their lives they had never believed in the word _impossible_, or had refused to let it form part of their vocabulary, or had naively thought that pure belief in themselves would get them through – well, this proved to be a very rude wake-up call.

By ten in the morning, it seemed that everyone was fast approaching breaking point. Everyone, that is, except the lawyers, auditors and media and public relations people, who were _still _gleefully barrelling ahead at top speed.

The lawyers had arrived about half an hour ahead of schedule, fresh off the plane, and had insisted on seeing Tezuka immediately. Nothing was sacrosanct as far as they were concerned and although they professed to be huge fans of Tezuka, it didn't get in the way of the grilling to which they subjected Tezuka – unsentimental, intense and extremely meticulous. Atobe observed matters from a discreet corner of the room, and if he left the room now and then to see for himself how the rest of the world was getting along in his absence, nobody noticed.

Like the lawyers, the auditors had hit the ground running. They had their orders: piece together a coherent paper trail with respect to the players' financial assets, and match the outflow and claims to the instances of misappropriated funds mentioned in the thick investigative report. It was a challenge made more difficult by the fact that only Tezuka Kunimitsu, Sanada Genichirou and Kaidoh Kaoru kept their papers in some semblance of order. The rest of the players, on the other hand, maintained their records in varying degrees of disarray, and found themselves being harried, also in varying degrees, by lists of requests for missing documents. To complicate matters, the auditors in Cincinnati were working in tandem with their counterparts in Tokyo, who were sifting through even _more_ records that had been obtained from the boys' families back in Japan. It was like trying to fit together a jigsaw puzzle— except that nobody knew how many pieces were in the puzzle, and _where_ the pieces were, not to mention the fact that the people trying to put it together were separated by an ocean and several time zones in between.

The media and public relations people had already started work; they were at the frontline, parrying the thrusts of the media queries and whispered public opinions, crafting little statements that surfed through the high crests of the media waves and through to the calmer waters beyond. They worked from one of the smaller meeting rooms in the Westin Cincinnati, sandwiched between the lawyers' war room and the auditors' data room. They were discreet and street-smart, used to handling matters like this, and they had their thumbs on the pulse of the news cycle regarding Tezuka's scandal.

The clock ticked the hours away.

When they broke for lunch at noon, it was a veritable group of zombies who staggered into a private dining room at Morton's The Steakhouse for lunch.

"Accountants are monsters," Kirihara Akaya mumbled, stabbing his fork into a slice of beef and then taking large bites out of it. "They keep asking me stuff about my money... they're supposed to help me find it, not ask me where it is."

"They have to ask you first because it's _your _money and _your _bank accounts," Yukimura Seiichi remarked. He was still looking somewhat pale and peaked, but his eyes had a healthy sparkle in them. "My sympathy lies with Tezuka – the lawyers were very thorough with him." He gave Tezuka, who was seated across the table from him, a compassionate smile.

Tezuka returned it with a wry smile of his own.

Kirihara's steak created a diversion at that moment by falling off his fork and landing with a soft thump on his plate, which responded with a comical little wiggle on the tablecloth.

"Perhaps you should cut it into little pieces first? So that it's easier to manage?" Yukimura suggested, amused.

Kirihara paused. "I know that… but it's more fun this way."

Yukimura smiled fondly at Kirihara. "Have it your way, then."

Kirihara beamed. He stabbed his steak again and bit into it. "This is really good!"

"I like Kobe beef better," murmured Ibu Shinji, staring intently at his plate. "Kobe marbled beef is really delicious, although I've only eaten it once, because the best Kobe beef is so expensive, and it's got streaks of fat all over, so I'm not allowed to eat it as it's bad for my diet, but this beef doesn't look fatty, so it should be all right, although it's not as good as Kobe beef, since Japanese beef is the best, and it's such a pity America doesn't have Kobe beef—"

"I take it that our regular nutritionists have all been put out to pasture," Yukimura murmured in an aside to Sanada Genichirou.

"Renji says that he and Inui Sadaharu approved the menu," responded Sanada. "It will not interfere with the new training system that they are putting in place."

Yukimura's eyebrow twitched. "You won't hear me complaining about eating top-grade beef." He eyed his plate doubtfully. "This is probably not going to happen again, given the cost. Tezuka—"

Tezuka glanced up.

Yukimura met Tezuka's eyes. "We'll need to have a talk with Atobe, soon. And not just about the cost."

Tezuka gave a barely perceptible nod.

"Does Atobe have any news?" Yukimura asked.

"Not that I'm aware of," Tezuka answered briefly.

"What about the NTAJ investigation into the treasurer's office for embezzlement?" Yukimura prodded.

"No new development so far," replied Tezuka simply.

Yukimura began carving up his steak. "It gives us reason to believe that our management has been stealing money from _us_."

Sanada entered the conversation. "That was what Atobe meant, by taking care of the breach of contract issues?" He looked at Tezuka. "That our management breached the contract first – not us."

Tezuka nodded.

"So he must have known, somehow, _before _all this happened," Yukimura said slowly. "Then he engaged the investigators to collect proof…" Yukimura's voice trailed off.

"… and then all this happened," Tezuka finished quietly.

Silence fell.

"We _will_ see Atobe after this," Sanada said emphatically.

Now the atmosphere was heavy, weighed down with things unsaid and undone, and things yet to come. They ate in silence, punctuated by clinks of cutlery and crockery, each apparently wrapped in his own thoughts, none willing to break the silence.

–At least until it was unexpectedly shattered by none other than Kirihara.

"Niou-_sempai_ stole Atobe-_san_'s best wine," announced Kirihara suddenly and irrelevantly through a mouthful of beef. "Broke into the wine cabinet and everything. Isn't Niou-_sempai_ totally cool?"

The heaviness in the atmosphere splintered into a million little pieces.

Kaidoh Kaoru choked.

Tezuka blinked.

Ibu Shinji accidentally swept a forkful of mashed potatoes on to the tablecloth.

Yukimura made a strange sound which sounded a little bit like a snort of laughter.

Sanada's hand jerked and his fork made a screeching sound as it scratched across the plate.

Echizen Ryoma, who had been eating steadily and silently (so far), muttered, "No wonder Atobe was in a bad mood."

"If _any_one mentions that again," said Atobe Keigo's voice, cutting unexpectedly through the room like a very fine blade of polished steel, "he shall join Niou Masaharu."

There was a pause, laden with all manner of unspoken threats which everyone knew that Atobe was well capable of carrying out. Then—

"Hello, Atobe," Yukimura said mildly. "We were wondering where you were."

By way of greeting, Sanada and Tezuka gave identical nods to Atobe in perfect unison, and exchanged slightly startled glances – they hadn't expected to be in sync.

In silence, Atobe took his seat at the head of the table. The maître d' materialised discreetly at Atobe's elbow.

Kirihara, having apparently recovered sufficiently from the fright of seeing Atobe appear suddenly, opened his mouth again. "I don't believe you did anything to Niou-_sempai_," he piped up. "Niou-_sempai_ is indestructible."

Atobe didn't deign to reply.

"Akaya."

It was all Yukimura said, and there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, but it was enough.

Kirihara blinked – and then shrugged, smiling easily. "All right, _sempai_." His voice was calm and perfectly steady, quite unlike the slightly childlike, petulant tone he had adopted earlier.

He had dropped the act.

"_Kirihara_," Sanada bit out.

Kirihara met Sanada's eyes fearlessly. "It's fine, _sempai_. I know what I'm doing."

Sanada held Kirihara's gaze for a long time, before he relented. "You almost crossed the line."

"I stepped on it," Kirihara admitted cheerfully. "I do know where the line is. But this place was beginning to feel like a funeral. I don't like funerals, especially when no one's dead." He glanced at Atobe. "Atobe-_san_."

Atobe was watching Kirihara, his face as expressionless as Tezuka's.

"I hope you made it worth Niou-_sempai_'s while."

There was a long silence.

Then Atobe, surprisingly, chuckled somewhat sardonically. "Ask him yourself."

Atobe, it appeared, was not without a sense of humour.

Kirihara grinned happily. "As expected of Atobe-_san_ and Niou-_sempai_." He added, almost as an afterthought: "My _sempai-tachi_ taught me well."

"_Akaya_!" Sanada was outraged.

But Yukimura was laughing. "All right, Akaya," he said as best as he could in between fits of laughter. "That's really quite enough."

"I _thought_ that childish act was weird," Echizen mumbled under his breath. "_Che_."

Kirihara waved his fork at Echizen. "I'm a cute brat, or at least that's what my _sempai-tachi_ have always told me. Playing to your strengths is a basic rule in—" he halted, struggling to find the right words. "Ah, well, basic rule for everything."

"Well said," Yukimura approved.

"Thank you, _sempai_!" chirped Kirihara.

Echizen rolled his eyes, but privately conceded the point.

Kirihara looked round brightly. "Now, isn't this _much_ better?"

Indeed, the tension seemed to have evaporated from the room somehow. Yukimura was laughing, Sanada wore the expression of the long-suffering and saintly, Atobe was engaged in a detailed discussion with the maître d', Tezuka looked relaxed, Kaidoh seemed less grave, and Shinji in the space of a few seconds had somehow managed to inveigle Echizen into what appeared to be a kind of staring competition across the table – weird, but that made it normal.

It was never going to be easy, but it was good, for the moment, to be able to laugh a little, and to breathe…

… for now.


End file.
